


Disaster Draft

by ICarryDeathOnMyWings



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, And Fluff sometimes, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguments, Bitty is sad, Broken Bones, Car Accidents, Complete, Concussions, Drinking, Endgame Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann, F/M, Fluff, Fluff? Maybe?, Gay Panic, Gen, Guilt, Homophobia, Jack and Bitty grow apart slowly, Jack is sad, Kent and Bitty are low key friend now?, Kent has a crush, M/M, Minor Character Death, No Communication, Panic Attacks, Reconciliation, Sadness, Scraps' name is Joseph Scrapitti, Scraps/Kent, Sex Jokes, So much angst, Trades, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, angst angst angst, bus accident, but plot?, but they're home now!, everyone on the Falcs is hurt, it's on Scraps, mentioned in passing - Freeform, mentioned surgeries, not super detailed descriptions of injuries, talk of injuries, the Aces are very homophobic, the death isn't a Falconer!!!, they spend time together, this'll get better, trust me - Freeform, turning tides, will add more tags at each chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 60,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26315743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ICarryDeathOnMyWings/pseuds/ICarryDeathOnMyWings
Summary: The unthinkable happens. The Falconers, on their way to New York, are involved in a devastating accident. With most of the team out on injuries, the NHL has its first-ever disaster draft. Kent Parson, meanwhile, is pretty sure he's in a good place to come out but it doesn't go half as well as he'd hoped. With everything changing so drastically, and so quickly, will these boys be able to overcome their trauma?
Relationships: Alicia Zimmermann/Bob Zimmermann, Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann, Larissa "Lardo" Duan/Shitty Knight, Past Jack Zimmermann/Kent Parson
Comments: 111
Kudos: 174





	1. The Accident

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter of what I think will be nine or ten chapters. I'm very proud of this, and I hope y'all enjoy it. 
> 
> Huge, huge shout out to my beta readers. I could not have done this without them, and I appreciate their help more than I can properly express.

Bitty hated sending Jack on roadies. Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true. He didn't mind it, he just wished that they could spend all their time together without Jack having to leave for days at a time, but they’d managed through Bitty’s senior year, a few days of the week were nothing. Still, Bitty preferred to be able to cuddle with Jack. He was getting spoiled to the point where sometimes it was hard to fall asleep at night without Jack next to him. 

It was even harder because the season was just starting, so neither of them were quite used to Jack having to leave again. Bitty padded to the front door, hands touching every inch of Jack that he could. 

“Do you have to go?” Bitty was whining. 

Jack chuckled, “Bits, it’s my job. I gotta keep you fed. I’m just going to New York. I’ll only be gone a night.” He placed a kiss to Bitty’s cowlick. 

Silence filled the room as Bitty finally dropped his hands to let Jack get ready. Not that there was much to do, Jack liked to pack the night before so all he had to do was grab and go. It allowed them more time in bed. 

Bitty leaned against the wall, arms over his chest. Something was wrong. He chewed his bottom lip before asking again, “You’re sure you have to go? I just- I can’t explain it, Jack. Something doesn't feel right.” 

Jack, who was sitting on the bench they had in the entrance hall of their home, looked up. He searched Bitty’s face for a long while, “I can’t call in because you have a bad feeling, bud. You know this.” Though the words went past his lips with ease, he had to agree. There was something not right about the day. 

They stood there in silence for a long time. Jack’s shirt was tight-fitting around the chest, Bitty noticed with mild annoyance. It made him look good, making it even harder to let him walk out the door, and it was blue. The silence stretched on for a while before Jack made a move to leave. Bitty couldn’t stop him, he knew that. 

“I love you,” was mumbled, eyes meeting Jack’s for a split second. 

“I love you too, Bits.” Jack stooped down to steal a kiss from Bitty, one that lingered for a little longer than it should have. Few things in this world could melt Jack’s steely facade: history facts, Shitty most days, and Bitty when he was a little grumpy and still rumpled with sleep. Well, if he was being honest it was Bitty all the time but that was a technicality. 

With his hand on the doorknob, Jack paused. He wasn’t sure why but he felt like he should remember this moment, so he turned once more. Bitty was smiling gently, though there was a sadness in his features that was often there when Jack left on roadies. Hair a mess, still groggy from waking up, the only way Jack could describe his whole appearance was soft. Like a ray of sunshine that was only just starting to crest the horizon. Their eyes met, Jack smiled a little bit before ducking into the hallway, leaving Bitty alone in their apartment. 

For a long time, everything was still, including Bitty who didn’t move from the entrance hall for a long few minutes after Jack had left. When he finally did move again, it was to the bedroom. It was still early, early enough that going back to bed for a few more hours was entirely acceptable. 

Upon waking up, it was immediately apparent that the weird feeling hadn’t gone away. It sat heavy, like a stone, in the pit of Bitty’s stomach. It made him squirm. Baking would help, he was sure of it. A quick shower (a poor attempt to try to wash the feelings away) later found Bitty moving in the kitchen, a familiar feeling washing over him, working to calm him slightly. It wasn’t like a dance, it was more like being on the ice when Bitty was in the kitchen. All the moves were second nature to him, from finding the flour and getting the butter, to setting the pot on the stove. He wanted to make an apple pie, but it was too reminiscent of Jack, so he settled to work with the frozen cherries he had in the fridge… He doubted anyone would be able to tell that it was made from frozen fruit, not after Bitty worked his magic on them. Maybe he should invite Shitty and Lardo over, it’d been a long time since they’d all been together. 

At some point, he’d realized that he wasn’t listening to music, which was odd since there was always something playing for him to sing along to, but it didn’t feel right. Music was too upbeat too… happy? Especially the music that he often listened to. Instead of using the fancy stereo system Jack had installed specially for him, Bitty turned the tv on to a random channel. There wasn’t much on during the middle of the day, but he wasn’t paying much attention anyway. 

Well, he wasn’t paying much attention until he heard, “Coming to you live from Connecticut, there has been a bus accident-” Bitty stopped, he stared. Jack would be going through Connecticut right now. “No word yet on casualties or injuries, but the bus was carrying The Provi-” The pie fell out of Bitty’s hands and made a deafening crash as it hit the floor, the contents going everywhere. The world came to a screeching halt, everything dipping and spinning as Bitty tried to grab and hold onto something to keep him upright.

“No.” Bitty choked out, “No, no, this-” His breath caught when he saw the bus. How had it even managed to roll? There was debris everywhere, and it looked like there were multiple vehicles involved, including a pickup truck whose front was completely smashed in. The police and ambulances and fire trucks had arrived, but only just. Traffic was at a standstill, people had gotten out of their cars and now, the police were trying to push them back. 

Distantly, Bitty heard his phone ring. He hoped it was Jack as he lunged towards it, but no, it was Shitty. His heart dropped so fast he thought it was going to kill him. With shaky hands, he answered, “Shitty?” 

“Bitty, oh my g- Bitty, have you heard?” 

Bitty’s bottom lip wobbled, “Y-yeah. I haven’t h-heard from him, Shitty. It looks so b-bad-” He sniffled, trying not to cry. 

“He’ll be okay, Bitty. I know him. There’s no way he won’t come home to you-” There was shuffling in the background, “Lards and I are on our way, okay? We’ll be there in-” 

“No!” Bitty shouted, “You can’t drive! What if-” 

“Hey, hey,” Shitty soothed, “We’ll be really fucking careful, I promise. Unless you want to be alone?” 

Bitty didn’t want to be alone, “No. Just… please be careful,” He whispered. Shitty promised again and then hung up. 

He knew he shouldn’t be watching. He knew he should look away and clean up the kitchen and the pie filling he’d trailed into the living room but he couldn’t. That was Jack, that was his family and they were all on that bus. Another call came in, in between all the buzzing from texts. He looked at the phone that was ringing in his hand, it sounded too loud. The screeching of it wasn’t dissimilar to the clattering crash that the pie had made as it hit the floor. 

He squinted at the offending device in his hand, trying to see the name through his tears. 

Bob. 

His breath caught and for a moment, he didn’t want to answer. Would they call Bob before him if something had happened? No. Even if they did, the accident was on the tv and no one had been taken off the bus yet. Bob didn’t know any more than Bitty. The jury was out on if that made him more comfortable or not. After a moment, he answered, “Hi, Bob.” 

“Eric!” He sounded frantic, “We haven’t heard anything, we figured you hadn’t either?” 

Bitty shook his head before remembering Bob couldn’t see him, “No, nothing yet. I’m watching though,” he whispered. 

“Alicia was too-” He said something in French that Bitty only half understood. Something about not packing and buying clothes, “We booked the next flight to Providence. We’ll be there in five hours.” There was a door slamming in the background and slight heavy breathing, Bitty assumed it was because Bob was running around in a panic, “How are you doing?” He eventually asked. Bitty didn’t answer, “Shitty is coming over soon.” 

“Good! That’s good.” A car door slammed and there was more talking in French, they sounded like they were in a car now, “But how are you doing?” he repeated. How was it possible for Bitty to deflect a question when Bob’s voice was so soothing and comforting? Bitty was quiet for a long time. Unsure of how to answer properly, he whispered, “I dropped a pie.” 

“Tabarnak,” Bob cursed, and Bitty definitely knew what that meant. He closed his eyes for a second, only for the announcer on the tv’s voice to cut through the brief silence that had fallen over them like a knife, “It appears that they’re bringing the first people off the bus.” 

“Dad, they’re getting someone out,” Bitty breathed, scooting closer to the television like that would help at all. The helicopter that was filming the scene zoomed in on the person who was being brought out on a stretcher. 

“Who is it?” Bob asked, voice croaky like the words got lodged in his throat on their way out.

“Poots,” Bitty said, hand clutching the phone. He sniffled, “God, he looks awful. His- his face is all-” A few tears slipped down his face. 

Bob let him ramble for a moment, “Is he..?” The sentence died on Bob's lips, but that was okay because Bitty knew what he meant, “He’s moving.” He wiped his eyes hard. 

He could hear the sigh of relief from Bob, “Kiddo, I don’t really want to leave you alone but just in case Jack gets in touch…” 

“I get it. I’ll see you soon.” Bitty was quiet for a long moment, letting the silence stretch between them. Though the line was mostly silent, there was rumbling in the background that alerted Bitty to the fact that Bob had not yet hung up. There was no one news coming from the bus so he and Bob were sitting in silence until he found it in him to speak, “Dad? T-tell Mom I love you both,” he whispered. He was almost positive Bob sniffed, “Sure thing, son. We’ll be there soon. And Eric? We love you too.” He hung up, and Bitty let his phone fall into his lap. 

The next people out were team members that Bitty didn’t know well. He knew them, had hung out with them a few times but it wasn’t like they were Tater. Oh god, Tater, Bitty thought and curled up a little more into himself. He needed to call his Mama. He just didn’t know if he’d be able to handle it, but… the thought of not hearing her voice... He hesitated for a moment, fingers stopping over the keypad. If Jack hadn't called by then, he probably wouldn't be. He dialed. 

“Dicky!” She gasped out instead of saying her usual, ‘Hello, this is Suzanne Bittle speaking!’. “Honey, I’m so sorry-” and just like that, the floodgates were open. Bitty started sobbing, his shoulders hunched as he cried and cried into the phone. His mama, bless her, spoke softly and comfortingly until he had calmed down enough to choke out, “I’m so scared.” 

Speaking it made it seem more real. Like before it was only a terrible nightmare and if he ignored it, if he ignored how he felt then it wouldn’t be happening. The moment those words passed through his lips the horror that was on the screen was solidified as a real event. As much as he wanted to run and hide from it, he no longer could. He covered his face with his hand, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was to try to stop the tears, maybe it was to block out the tv. 

“I know, honey,” she whispered, “I know.” Because there was nothing else to say. As he opened his mouth again to speak, the door flew open, and in seconds Shitty was across the living room and hugging Bitty tightly, “Brah, your feet are so sticky.” He murmured against his hair. 

Bitty choked out a laugh as he clung to Shitty like he was a lifeline. He had forgotten that he’d stepped in the pie to get to the tv, “Mama’s on the phone, Shits,” he whispered. 

“Mama Bittle?!” Shitty yelled after making sure he wasn’t close enough to rupture Bitty’s eardrum. 

“Oh, is that Mr. Crappy? Tell him I say hello!” She was quiet for a moment, “Now, Dicky, I’ll text you, okay? Be with your friends, it’ll work out.” 

“Okay, Mama,” Bitty said into the phone. Another tear fell, “Love you, Mama.” 

“I love you too,” she said back before hanging up. 

Lardo was in the kitchen cleaning the pie when Bitty hung up. Despite the situation, Bitty stood, “Oh, Lardo, let me-” 

“No can do, Bits,” she shook her head. “Sit your ass down and let Shitty play with your hair, I can take care of this-” She stopped suddenly, her eyes looking past Bitty and at the tv. It looked like she had seen a ghost, and Bitty thought deliriously, that if whoever they were bringing out was dead then maybe she was. The blood in Bitty’s veins turned to ice, “Who is it?” He asked but he thought it sounded more like strangled sounds of nothingness as opposed to actual words. Shitty was looking now too, but Bitty couldn’t move. 

“Tater,” Jack always sat next to Tater, “Bitty, it’s-” 

He couldn’t take it anymore. He turned towards the tv only to wish he hadn’t. He wished he could look away and forget because it was awful. Tater didn’t even look like the same person anymore, not with his swollen face that was covered in blood. His shirt was missing, probably because it had been cut away. This put the wounds he’d sustained on display, including one that looked particularly deep. His arm was also laying at an unnatural angle, but the worst part was his leg. It was horrible to the point where Bitty had to look away. 

“Fuck, Bitty, I don’t-” 

“It doesn’t look- he doesn't look like he’s-” He fell against Shitty. 

“They probably wouldn’t have taken him out if he was…” Shitty winced at his words, he knew he wasn’t being too helpful, but not even he could make this better with comic relief. However, Eric supposed he was right. They watched in silence as Tater was put into the ambulance and driven away. Bitty wondered how they were supposed to get everyone who was on the bus to the hospital when they were taking one or two people at a time. Wouldn’t they run out of ambulances eventually? His mind was bouncing around so much, from one thought to the next that it was hard to keep everything straight. It was like ping pong. 

“Jack always sits next to Tater,” Bitty whispered, finally sticking onto one clear thought, “On the outside. He would’ve been on the outside. Why didn’t they- why didn’t they get Jack first?” He was getting hysterical. 

“We don’t know what’s going on, maybe Tater was worse or something,” Shitty sat on the couch, pulling Bitty into his lap. It was comforting to be in someone’s arms, even if he really wished that those arms were Jack’s. Shitty was a different sort of comfort, he wasn’t a firm as Jack was, especially since he’d been out of hockey for a few years, but his becoming a little softer just made Shitty that much better for cuddling. Despite the slight comfort found in Shitty’s arms, Bitty couldn't stop thinking about how awful this all was. Waiting was the absolute worst and every second that ticked by was another second more of not knowing. 

The silence was deafening as they waited on more information to come. The seconds felt like they were moving by incredibly slow, and each minute felt like an hour. Bitty wasn’t facing the tv when the announcer's voice finally came through the speakers and he nearly jumped out of his skin, “They’re coming out with someone else now, and-” Bitty turned to look at the tv and the world dropped off. He was focused on one thing, and one thing only. 

It was Jack. 

Jack Jack Jack Jack. 

He felt Shitty stiffen underneath him, thought he heard Lardo’s gasp. Jack didn’t look worse than Tater. None of his limbs were wrapped up like the other’s, nor did they look broken, but his eyes were closed and there was blood all over his head, face, and chest. And… was that something sticking out of his stomach? 

Bitty leaped off of Shitty and ran to the bathroom to get sick. 

A lot happened over the next few hours. He was called by the hospital Jack was being admitted to, the Falconers organization (who confirmed that there were no fatalities though many people were in critical condition), and every one of his SMH friends, including a few people he only half knew. He was not expecting a second call from the hospital not five minutes after the original call about Jack, he immediately expected the worst, “Hello?” 

“Yes, Mr. Bittle, hello again. It appears that you’re Alexei Mashkov’s emergency contact?” 

Bitty blinked, “I-I am? I mean, uh, yeah, I am.” 

“He’s also in surgery. He’s critical but the doctors are hopeful that he’ll make it through this.” 

He sniffed, aggressively wiping his eyes, “Okay, thanks,” He whispered. “Is there any way he and Jack can be in the same room together when they get out of surgery?   
“No, I’m so sorry but they need to recover separately. I apologize for cutting this short but I have other calls to make.” They hung up, leaving Bitty to stare forward at nothing. Everything was happening so fast, and he wasn’t sure how it was going to be possible to keep up with it all. 

Just to drive home how fast things really were moving, Shitty, Lardo, and Bitty were on their way to Connecticut only a few minutes after the call from the hospital, and the only reason they’d waited that long was that they didn’t know where Jack was being taken to. And even knowing where Jack was, they were still in the dark quite a bit. The hospital hadn’t told them much, only that Jack and Tater were in surgery, but they wouldn’t say for what. Bitty wanted to be angry, but in their defense, they did just have an entire hockey team dropped off at their door. 

Bitty texted the family group chat that had both sets of parents, himself and Jack, trying to keep them in the loop as much as possible, but that was hard when there was no information to give. He apologized to Bob and Alicia for not waiting for them, but they said they hadn’t expected, nor wanted, him to. 

In the end, the drive took about an hour and a half and had Bitty on edge the entire time. 

When they got to the hospital, the first thing Bitty noticed was the smell. Sterile and almost metallic, it was so overwhelming that he stumbled a little as they crossed the threshold. Shitty put a hand on his back to steady him, “You good, dude?” He questioned. Bitty didn’t answer, because no, he wasn’t okay but Shitty shouldn’t be too worried about him. He ended up giving him a small nod. 

The second thing he noticed was the lack of people. He’d thought it would be packed full with the family of the Falconers, but besides the three of them, there were only a handful of people that he recognized. Later, he learned that they had to send some people to different hospitals to stop any single one from getting too overwhelmed. Part of him wanted to help comfort them, or at least share in their pain together, but the bigger part of him wanted to retreat into his shell and not come back out for days. 

Every hour, on the hour, one of them was asking for updates. Jack had been in surgery for three hours, with, they finally told him, some pretty extensive wounds to his torso from broken glass. There had been some shrapnel, and that’s what they'd been able to see sticking out of Jack when he had been taken off the bus. Tater, meanwhile, didn’t have cuts nearly as bad as Jack’s, had a broken arm and leg. His leg-break was severe, so severe in fact, it was career-ending. He also had been in surgery for a while. Bitty wanted to scream. This was hard enough when he was just in charge of Jack, but Jack and Tater? He was fried. The good news was that after Jack got out of surgery, they would be able to see him, so hopefully, he got out soon. Shitty listened to all the new information and furiously texted Bob and Alicia who were almost to the hospital. Bitty just didn’t have the energy to keep everyone informed. 

All of a sudden there was a skip in reality. Not so much a dip and spin, like when Bitty had heard about the accident or watched Jack being taken from the bus, it was a skip. One moment he was watching Shitty type, the next, he had reached over to Shitty and grabbed onto his arm to stop from falling over. Oh, well, maybe he was dizzy. Shitty caught him, “I’ve got you, brah,” He said, moving Bitty over to a nearby chair, where he promptly curled in on himself and started crying again. 

“How could this have happened?” He choked out, “I don’t understand-” 

Shitty sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of Bitty’s head. “I don’t fucking know,” he murmured against Bitty’s hair. “I have no fucking clue.” Shitty was angry and upset too, but was managing to hold it together for Bitty, but if Bitty hadn’t been there? He would be a total mess. When he and Lardo were alone (whenever that may be), they would work through everything together. They’d gotten very good at reading each other and knowing exactly what the other needed. But that didn’t matter, not until they knew that things would be sort of okay.

A whole hour later, the boys were still in surgery. Bitty had been under the impression that they’d be over soon, and that expectation had started making him antsy. Reporters had started to arrive, making it difficult for Bob and Alicia to get inside, and unfortunately, their arrival only solidified everyone’s previous suspicions of Jack, and some of the other players’, locations. They had shouted at them, asking about Jack’s condition, if he was even still alive. They were lucky Bob was so drained. 

“Son-” Bob couldn't finish what he was going to say before Bitty was throwing himself into his arms and crying once again. Alicia wrapped herself around the two of them. They stood there for a moment, all three crying before Bob extended a hand to Lardo and Shitty, who both gladly joined the hug. It was the first time Shitty had allowed himself to cry since hearing the news. They must have been quite a sight, standing there in the middle of the waiting room, a large pile of sobbing people. Bob and Alicia looked awful, how they’d managed to get bags so big without missing any real sleep could probably be considered an art form. Neither of them were dressed as they usually would be, in fact, Alicia was wearing sweatpants. The fact that those sweatpants cost more than some of Jack’s full suits meant nothing. 

When they finally parted, after a very long, much-needed group hug, Bitty’s phone buzzed again. It was so tempting to just ignore it, it’d been going off for hours, but Bitty just couldn't bring himself to do that. It could be important. He had been getting messages all day, though Shitty had been fielding most of the ones from the SMH group chat, so the rest were from his parents or people that didn’t need a response. He was not expecting a twitter DM notification from Kent Parson. They had started following each other on Twitter after they'd had that talk at the Haus. Bitty liked to look at the pictures of his cat. 

‘This isn’t my place but is Zimms okay?’ It read. Bitty stared at it for a long time, so long that Shitty put his hand on his shoulder to get him to react, “I- sorry,” he whispered. He took a slow breath, thinking hard about what he wanted to say. What if Kent went and said something to the press? No, he was a lot of things, but he wouldn’t do something like that. He sent back, ‘Haven’t seen him yet but he’s stable’. It seemed good enough for now, he didn’t want to go into it more.

The group fell into an uncertain silence for the next few minutes, until a doctor walked out. “Eric Bittle?” she asked. Eric stood up so fast he got a little dizzy. “Yes?” he said breathlessly. “Is he okay? Can we see him?” 

“He’s stable, yes,” she nodded. “Follow me, please.” 

Bitty gestured for everyone to follow but Shitty shook his head, “You three go ahead, we’ll wait for you here.” He gave Bitty a reassuring smile. Bitty didn’t want to leave them alone, but realistically they all wouldn’t be able to go into the room anyway, so Bitty, Bob, and Alicia followed the doctor further into the hospital. 

“His injuries weren’t as bad as we thought they were going to be,” The doctor said as gently as she could manage. They were overwhelmed, she had more patients, “He got very lucky with the hit to his head, we thought he was going to have a bad concussion, but it seems to be only mild, though there is a cut to his temple. He has a few other cuts from what we assume was glass. No broken limbs but a few cracked ribs. The worst of his injuries happened to his abdomen. Glass from the windows lodged in his side, missing most vital organs, but the wound is deep. There were a lot of other shallower cuts that required stitches but not as much care as the one did.” 

Bitty was looking straight ahead, trying desperately to keep it together. This didn’t sound too bad. Jack was okay, he was okay. “We’re most worried about internal bleeding, so he’ll continue to be monitored for a few days.” They stopped in front of a wooden door that was opened for them to be able to go inside. Bitty didn’t look in, “And Alexei Mashkov?” 

The doctor took a slow breath, “He had a compound fracture, his leg is shattered. He’s still in surgery for it, but the road to recovery is going to be very long and difficult. A lot of days in bed, wheelchairs, crutches. His arm wasn’t broken as bad and should heal in a matter of months. We believe he has a concussion, but we haven’t been able to run the test just yet. We should know soon. All his cuts were minor.” 

Bob put a hand on Bitty’s shoulder, no doubt thinking what Bitty was. Tater was never going to skate again. “Thank you,” he said to the doctor. “We know you’re busy,” 

The doctor nodded, “If you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask.” She gave a small, sad smile, then turned and left. Bitty watched her leave because it was an excuse not to have to face the hospital room just to the left of him. Once she was out of sight, it took Bitty a long time to start moving again. He felt numb, like this was all just a horrible dream and he would wake up soon, he had to. Bob squeezed his shoulder gently. “We should go in,” he whispered. 

Bitty’s eyes welled with tears and before he could stop himself he said, “How did you do it?” It came out strangled, like the words got caught in his throat and refused to dislodge. It wasn’t fair to bring up the overdose, not now, not when things were like this. He supposed he just needed to know how they had survived it all. 

“It wasn’t easy,” Alicia sighed softly. “We went through the motions, tried our hardest to be strong for Jack.” She let out a long breath, tilting her head back for a second. “The worst part was that first day,” she admitted. “Seeing him in the bed… I don’t think it’ll be too different now. This might… be worse.” She quickly wiped her eyes, steeling herself. Bitty reached over so he could hold her hand tight. It was grounding, the next best thing to having his mother there with him. They stood there a moment, trying to work up the courage to walk in but n the end, Bob made the first move. He passed through the threshold of the door, trying not to have too much of a reaction, but he failed pretty miserably at it. Blinking a few times to try to stop himself from crying did next to nothing, in fact, it only made his tears fall.

Jack was pale, nearly the same color as the sheets around him. He had a tube in his nose, an IV in his arm, and some weird monitor on his finger, which filled the room with the steady sound of a heart monitor. At least that was mildly comforting. He was wearing one of those terrible hospital gowns, which meant they couldn’t see the extent of the injuries to his chest, but his face was covered in light scratches, except for one above his left eyebrow that was being held together by glue. 

When Bitty walked into the room he roughly wiped his eyes. Up until then he’d been able to pretend that it wasn’t that bad, that what the nurses and doctors were telling him was worse than it actually was to prepare him for the real thing, and really, compared to what he was thinking, it wasn’t so bad, but Jack just looked so… there really was no way to describe it.

He shuffled over to the bed, plopping into the chair closest to Jack. “When do you think he’ll wake up?” he asked Bob and Alicia softly. 

Alicia’s eyes were red with tears, but unlike Bob, she wasn’t trying to stop them. “Soon since he got out of surgery a bit ago.” 

“Okay,” Bitty whispered, slipping his hand into Jack’s. It was weird to hold his hand but not to feel him hold it back. His skin felt cold, clammy, and it was doing nothing to help expel those ‘worst-case scenarios’ from Bitty’s mind. He wiped his eyes with his free hand, “Now do we just… wait?” 

“I’m going to talk to Shitty,” Bob said, staring at Jack’s face. “It’ll be a few minutes yet and he should know what’s going on.” He kissed the top of Jack’s head, lingering there for a minute before he left. Though dealing with his grief, it was killing Bitty to see everyone so upset and it just made him feel more powerless. 

“I-I wish I hadn’t dropped that pie,” he whispered, almost delirious. Because pie would have been how he fixed all of this, right? It just made sense that if he had the pie he could give it to people and maybe it could help to cheer people up. It was a ridiculous notion, one that was half baked and came out of such horrible sadness. He looked at Jack, eyes trailing over each of his features, lingering on the cut above his eyebrow. Without even being aware of it, a tear slipped down Bitty’s cheek. 

Alicia started to move to Bitty’s side to comfort him when Jack’s hand weakly curled around Bitty’s. Bitty sat up a little straighter, “Jack? Jack!” He squeezed the other’s hand impossibly tight. Jack cracked an eye open though it seemed like it was taking all his effort, “Why’re you crying?” His voice was croaky. “Am I really that unattractive?” 

Bitty’s mouth dropped open and closed like he was a fish. “Did you just- Jack! I can’t believe you!” He shook his head but he was smiling, crying relieved tears. Alicia had placed herself on Jack’s other side, holding his hand, “Jack, baby-” she smiled weakly. “You really do look that bad.” 

Jack tried to laugh but it came out as a wheeze, followed by a cough and a pained hiss. He squeezed his eyes shut, “Tabarnak.” He squeezed Bitty’s hand much harder than he intended to, and once he had calmed down, the three of them fell into silence until Jack spoke up, “What happened?” he whispered. The happiness that had settled over the room just a couple seconds ago shattered like glass. 

There was silence for a long time, neither Alicia nor Bitty sure of what to say. Finally, Bitty started carefully, “What do you remember?” 

“Well, there was… Tater and I were fighting because…” His tongue darted over his lips, his mouth felt like he’d eaten a dozen cotton balls, “He took my seat. Wouldn’t move.” He squeezed his eyes shut, his breath started picking up, “There was- there was a loud noise and the driver breaked-” He opened his eyes, they were wild, manic, “Fuck. The team, Bitty-” He tried to sit up but Alicia jumped up to gently push him back down, “Jack, you can’t move.” 

“Maman, the team!” He looked at her desperately, his breath coming in short gasps, “The bus it-” 

Bitty gently shook Jack’s hand, “Sweetpea, honey, everyone is alive; you all made it off the bus,” he spoke gently, hoping that he was able to keep the shaking out of his voice. Everyone made it off but not everyone was in once piece. Rumors were floating around, and while they were all trying their best to ignore them, Bitty had heard that one of the players lost a couple of fingers. Still all rumors but scary nonetheless. Jack made a pained sound, “You didn’t say they’re all okay.” 

“I don’t know how everyone else is doing. I’ve been focused on you.” Bitty carefully cupped Jack's cheek trying to get him to calm down, to focus on something else, like a hand on his cheek. 

It didn’t really help, Jack’s eyes were still wild and wide, and he was looking at Bitty with a desperation that Bitty had never seen on a person, “You’re Tater’s emergency contact. He told me so, Bitty-” Jack gripped at him, “Tell me he’s okay.” 

Saying that would be lying, wouldn’t it? Tater wasn’t okay, he’d never play hockey again but Jack didn’t need that right then, he needed to be calm and focus on himself. Bitty chewed his lip, “Tater’s fine, J-” 

“You’re an awful liar,” He said weakly, “Bitty- I-” 

“His leg is broken. I haven’t seen him yet because I was waiting for you to wake up.” He kissed the back of Jack’s hand, watching his face as he processed what Bitty had just said to him, “How bad?” 

There was no point trying to hide it now, “Really bad,” he whispered. Jack’s breath shuddered out of him, and Bitty wished he could hold him until the hurt went away. Despite the pain the news had caused Jack, it seemed to satisfy him, as he went quiet, just staring up at the ceiling. 

Things were silent save the soft beeping and whirring of the machines hooked up to Jack until Bob made his way back, “Shitty and Larissa went to go get- Citron!” Bob grinned when he saw him, but his smile quickly went away upon feeling the tension in the room. He slid up beside Alicia, “How do you feel?” he asked Jack quietly. Jack closed his eyes slowly, “What have you heard? Anything?” 

Bitty looked at Bob with pleading eyes, silently begging him not to tell Jack what was going on. “Sorry, Jack, I haven’t heard anything.” He gently squeezed Jack’s shoulder. “How do you feel?” he repeated. 

It looked like the wheels in Jack’s head were turning, but very slowly. Bitty couldn't imagine what was happening in his brain; he must’ve been in so much pain. “Papa, I’m-” Jack breathed out slowly, closing his eyes. “I feel fine. It hurts but… but it feels fine.” Not long after, a nurse came in to check on them. Jack asked question after question, but she didn’t answer any of them.

Eventually, she left, and Jack looked at Bitty, “Bits,” he whispered, “will you go see Tater?” 

Bitty’s breath hitched and he shook his head, “No, I can’t- I don’t want to leave you, Jack, I-” his eyes welled with tears, “don't ask me to, please.” 

Guilt sat hot and heavy in Jack’s gut. Guilt for what he was asking Bitty to do, guilt for swapping seats with Tater, for making his parents fly down from Montreal. He looked at Bitty, “I’m- I need to know,” his voice cracked. 

Bitty leaned forward, placing his head on Jack’s forearm for a long moment. “Okay,” he finally choked out. “Yeah, okay, sweetpea.” He pulled away, clinging to his hand for as long as he could before finally letting go. He glanced over at Bob and Alicia, who met his gaze. They looked apologetic, and Bitty quickly looked away. He didn’t know why he was so uncomfortable, but he was. Maybe he was angry that he felt so awful going to check on one of his closest friends. He should want to know how Tater was doing, shouldn’t he? His eyes were trained on the floor as he left the room.

Bitty wandered for a while before finding someone who could tell him where Tater’s room was. It wasn’t far from Jack’s which seemed like a small blessing in all of this mess. Though the walk wasn’t all that long, it felt like miles. Every step took him further away from Jack even though all he wanted to do was stay by his side. 

He tried to distract himself by looking at his phone. It was a ridiculous notion since there were updates and texts about the accident. He should have known better. However, buried in all his notifications, were a few messages from Parse. 

‘At least he’s stable’

‘There’s already talks of a disaster draft, is it really that bad?’ 

‘Someone died? Who died?’ 

Bitty’s heart started beating so fast he couldn't think right. Someone died. Who died? He looked through the Falconers’ Partners group chat, and no one was saying anything about that. There were a lot of updates about injuries… Bitty really needed to tell them what was happening. Finally, he saw it. A little while ago it was confirmed the bus driver had passed away. Bitty was disgusted by the wave of relief that went through his body when he read it. It wasn’t a Falconer, the team was okay. But they had had the same driver for years; he practically was a team member. He wanted to throw his phone across the room and scream. 

After what felt like hours, he made it to Tater’s room but like with Jack, he was afraid to go in. Tater was probably worse than Jack or, at the very least, he would look like he was worse. Bitty wasn’t sure he was ready to face that, so, he took the time to compose a message to Parse, ‘Pretty out of the loop, I guess, I haven’t heard many of the rumors. None of the team members died, the driver did (and if you leak that I will never forgive you). I haven’t heard about the rest of the team for the most part. Jack’s a lot better than they originally thought’ 

He reread it a few times, trying to decide if it was worth it to send, but ignoring Kent was rude, so he pressed the button. He took a breath, it felt good to get it off his chest, even if it was only a little bit. Feeling just a little better, he pushed open Tater’s door.

Tater looked so much worse than Jack did. He had a few more deep cuts on his face than Jack, one on the right eyebrow and one along his right cheekbone. His leg was in a cast that was being suspended from the ceiling by wires. It looked awful. His arm was in a regular cast, which meant he was able to move it, and that, at least, was good. Bitty had been afraid it would be as bad as the doctor made his leg seem. 

At the sound of the door opening, Tater opened his eyes, “Little B-” There was a tiredness behind the nickname that Bitty had never heard before, it made him sick to his stomach. “You come and visit me, Zimmboni not good enough for you now?” It looked like a lightbulb went off in his head, “Jack is okay?” 

“Yeah, Tater. He’s better than you anyway,” he tried to tease, but his voice broke and it just came out flat. “Sorry,” he whispered, moving to sit beside Tater taking the hand that wasn’t a cast in his own. Bitty always marveled at the size of Tater’s hands. Jack’s were big but Tater’s were massive. It was an odd thing to notice, he supposed, given their current situation. “You doing okay?” Bitty winced. What was he thinking? Obviously Tater wasn’t okay. 

There was a soft snort, “Am doing okay?” Tater looked at Bitty, “Doctors have been in and out. I know what has happened-” He shook his head a little bit then looked away. Bitty had never seen Tater so drained. “They say I will be lucky to be able to walk without pain after this. I never skate again.” His voice cracked, and Bitty started crying again. 

Standing, he hugged Tater as carefully as he dared, “I’m so sorry, Tater,” he whispered. 

Tater used his one good arm to hug Bitty back. Bitty knew by the way his shoulders were shaking that Tater was crying as well. He didn’t know what to do, so he just held him tight and didn’t say anything. Sometimes that’s all that was needed. Eventually, Tater let his arm drop signaling he was done with the hug, and Bitty leaned away from him. Bitty sat back, taking a long breath. “I feel bad leaving you here. I asked if you and Jack could share a room but they told me no,” he sniffed and wiped his eyes. 

“Is not a worry, Itty Bitty, I will be just fine,” he promised. “You come and see me when you can,” he gave him a reassuring smile. “Oh! Take video with me, you show Jack.” That seemed like a really good idea to Bitty, so he pulled his phone out and shifted so they could both be in the video. He started recording. 

“Jack! B tells me I look much better than you. This is no surprise though. Everyone knows I am his favorite.” Tater was still more subdued than he usually was, but he seemed to be trying. God, he was trying for Jack. 

Bitty wanted to cry but he just smiled, “That isn’t at all what I said!” 

“Is what I heard!” Tater insisted. “I am fine. I will be coming to see you in no time. Well, you’ll be coming to see me. I’m not moving much but is okay! When I move in with you you’ll have no choice but to visit with me every day!” 

Bitty gaped, “Wait just a second, Tater, whoever said anything about-” 

“I did! I say it and now it is on video. Cannot be taken back.” He grinned at the camera and used his good hand to wave, “I be seeing you soon, Zimmboni.” 

Bitty ended the video. “Thanks, Tater,” he said. “I think this’ll help him.” 

Tater nodded, “Of course. I do anything for my captain.” He smiled at Bitty, but it slowly slipped off of his face. It was heartbreaking. If Bitty could take away Tater and Jack’s pain, he’d do it in a heartbeat. They were two of the best people he knew, it just wasn’t fair. 

“Do you want me to tell him how bad your leg is?” Bitty whispered. 

Tater fell silent for a long time before nodding a little, “Is probably for the best.” 

Slowly, Bitty stood. He leaned over, pressing a kiss to the top of Tater’s head, “I’ll come back, and I’m sure Bob and Alicia will stop in. Maybe even Shitty.” Tater didn’t really respond and leaving felt like a betrayal. 

He stayed for a beat longer than he probably should have before making his way back to Jack’s room. As he walked between rooms, Bitty checked his phone again. There were more updates about the team that Bitty largely ignored, and there were more DMs from Kent. He took a deep breath and looked. 

‘Sorry about the driver. This whole thing is a mess’ 

‘It would be bad if I came out there, right?’ 

Bitty rubbed his temples, Kent was going to kill him. The stress of this day was going to kill him. Lacking the energy it took to be his ‘charming southern self’ Bitty sent back a single word answer: Yes 

He turned his phone to airplane mode. If Mama or Coach wanted to get in touch with him they could call Alicia or Bob, maybe even Shitty. He’d already been ignoring them more than he should have been but they were handling it okay so they had to have been in contact with someone. 

Having answered all the people he felt obligated to respond to, Bitty turned his phone to airplane mode. He was just thinking about how to break the news of Tater’s leg to Jack, not really paying attention to the things around him. Not until he got close to Jack’s room and high pitched beeping cut through his subconscious like a knife. He jogged the last few feet, his mind going to the worst-case scenario; there was internal bleeding and Jack was coding or whatever the hell they called it in all those hospital shows. 

He turned into the room hard, chest heaving and eyes wild until they landed on Jack. It was chaos; the heart monitor was beeping loudly and too quickly, the nurse from earlier was trying to push Jack onto his back while Alicia was trying to get him to breathe regularly. Bitty couldn’t breathe for a second. There was just so much happening, however, Jack was alive, and his brain latched onto that for a second. His relief lasted a second. Bitty was pretty sure Jack was having a panic attack, though he’d ever seen one so bad. 

Bitty jumped out of his skin when Bob put a hand on his shoulder, “He’s having a panic attack. It happened so fast, I’ve never seen him like this-” 

“I can help!” Bitty said desperately. “Holding him down isn’t gonna- Bob, you know this!” he grabbed Bob’s arm. Bob sighed, “Eric, I’m not the one who made this call, the nursing staff-” 

Bitty ran over to Jack, sneaking under Alicia’s arms, “Hey, sweetpea?” He had never seen Jack so bad. Jack’s body was tense almost like he was seizing up, it looked like he couldn't breathe and his whole body was shaking. Bitty knew Jack’s abdomen was torn up pretty good, but he could still sit on his thighs, so that’s what he did. From under Alicia’s arm, he crawled up onto Jack, being careful to avoid any injuries. “Jack, sweetpea.” He grabbed Jack’s hands, leaning up a little bit to see him better. 

That fucking nurse was in the way. “Move,” he growled, scaring both himself and the nurse. He hadn’t even been aware he could make a sound like that. She looked hesitant but moved to the side. 

“Sweetpea,” Bitty said softly, “Jack, honey, I’m right here. You’re okay,” he whispered. He was trying to do everything he knew would help Jack calm down. “Color,” Bitty said. 

Jack managed to strangle out, “Blue,” and Bitty started naming all the things in the room he could find that were blue. Slowly, Jack started to calm down, listening to Bitty talk about mundane things. Eventually, he was only shaking slightly, and Bitty allowed himself to sit back, still on Jack’s thighs. He breathed slowly, his shoulders slumping, “How you doing, honey?” 

“Better now,” he whispered, reaching out to put a hand on Bitty’s hip. Immediately, Bitty set his hand on top of Jack’s slipping their fingers together. The nurse was standing off to the side, looking unsure of herself, “Do you… need anything?” she asked softly. Bitty nodded, “Water.” 

They watched her leave, and when she was gone, Alicia smoothed the hair on Jack’s forehead. Bitty had never seen Jack so bad and that did not bode well for his future mental state. Maybe watching that video from Tater would help keep his mind off things… then again… probably best to wait. Those first few minutes the panic subsided were important, and Jack was always a little more delicate.

“Do you want me to stay here or should I get up?” he asked, referring to his position on Jack’s lap. Jack swallowed, “Stay.” So Bitty did. 

The nurse came and went, Bitty stayed. Jack went silent, just staring off into space, and Bitty stayed. Bob and Alicia went to find a hotel for all of them (even though the last thing Bitty wanted to do was to leave), he stayed. He sat on Jack’s thighs, neither of them speaking for a very, very long time. Jack had moved his hands from Bitty’s waist to his thighs and occasionally would curl his fingers in a way that Bitty knew meant he was trying not to spiral. He felt so helpless. 

Once they were alone Jack finally spoke again, “Bitty, I need to know,” 

“I know.” He reached down and held Jack’s hand tight. “There have been updates in the group chat all day, I’m sure I can find out about most everyone through that. I haven’t said anything yet but I should let them know you and Tater are okay.” He sighed, the breath leaving him all at once and leaving him deflated. He wanted to cry. He was so tired. 

“Start with Tater,” Jack said firmly. “You know what’s happened.” 

“I do,” Bitty held Jack’s hand tighter. “Honey, he’s... He’s never going to play hockey again.”

The noise that came out of Jack… Bitty would never forget it. It was a strangled noise that got caught up in his throat and mingled into a cry. They were still holding hands, so Bitty squeezed Jack’s reassuringly as tears started rolling down his cheeks. “I was supposed to be sitting there, Bits,” he choked out. “It was… we were joking around. That was my seat.” Bitty had already thought of this. He thought of it extensively and every way possible. That could have been Jack sitting in the next room over unable to walk, never able to skate again. It would have killed him, and that… Bitty closed his eyes for a moment, reigning his thoughts back in. It seemed Jack needed a moment, and Bitty let him have it. 

“What else do you know?” 

“The bus driver… he didn’t make it.” 

Jack stared blankly at Bitty for a long time. It was the most unnerving thing Bitty had ever seen, this wasn’t Jack. This wasn’t his Jack. He tried to focus but it was starting to get hard, near impossible. 

“He’s dead? Orlando is…”

“I’m so sorry, Jack,” he whispered. “I don’t know more than that. I wish I could tell you more but I-” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. All the Falconers had such horrible injuries, he couldn't imagine what Orlando’s must’ve been like.

“The team,” Jack sounded so far away, Bitty wasn’t sure if it was because Jack was zoning out or if he was. “The team is… they’re okay?”

“I don’t know. I should… I can check.” He finally took his phone off of airplane mode and it exploded to life in his hand. He cursed, setting it to the side to let it do its thing, “I just want it to all stop,” Bitty whispered, throat closing with tears. “I want it to be over with I-” He immediately felt guilty. He wasn’t the one lying in a hospital bed. He wasn’t the one whose career was over. Who was he to wish that things were different?

His admission seemed to stir something in Jack though, as he shook his head. “I know,” he reached up, cupping Bitty’s cheek. It looked like it hurt, and Bitty remembered his ribs were cracked. The panic attack must have been excruciating. “You’re being so strong for me, thank you, bud. But you don’t have to be. It’s okay.” 

Bitty’s shoulders slumped forward as he curled in on himself and started sobbing for what felt like the millionth time that day. He wanted to be better for Jack. He wanted to be able to care for both of them but he wasn’t strong enough. He wasn’t- He could feel Jack wiping away his tears, whispering words of encouragement and love. It made Bitty want to crawl out of his skin. He didn’t deserve that. 

Eventually, he forced himself to calm down. He could do this later when he was alone in his hotel room… God, that sounded awful. He turned his head so he could press a gentle kiss on Jack’s palm. He sighed out slowly, “Sorry,” he said against his skin. 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Jack whispered back. 

Bitty grabbed his phone, ready to go through the texts in his group chats. At least he was going to have Jack with him for this. As hard as it might be for Jack, they’d at least have each other, and that would make it a little easier. He scrolled through the notifications first, trying to decide where to start, and there was again another message from Parse. All this one said was ‘I hope he heals quick’. That was a good message, Bitty wouldn’t have to respond to a text like that. 

“You probably have hundreds of texts,” Jack whispered. Bitty nodded, “I haven’t checked my phone in hours but even before that I wasn’t really responding.” He was quiet for a moment, “Kent texted. He said he hoped you get better fast.” 

Jack snorted, “I’m sure he does.” He sighed, looking at Bitty’s phone, “How are the boys handling this?” By that Bitty knew he meant the Samwell team. 

Bitty didn’t have a clue. He knew how Shitty and Lardo were but he’d ignored everyone else’s texts and calls since the news had first broken. He shrugged, “I don’t know.” Slowly, Bitty slid off of Jack’s lap so they could look at the texts side by side. Jack was right, there were hundreds. 

He pulled up their SMH chat and scrolled back a ways to see what was being said. There were a lot of panicked texts from when things had first happened, most of the original ones directed at Jack, but when Jack didn’t respond, towards Bitty. Bitty didn’t take much time to read those, he instead scrolled to when they got to the hospital. Shitty had been sending all the updates they got because Bitty just hadn’t had the energy. Everyone was expressing their worry, their support. 

“I don’t want to- I get the point,” Jack whispered. Bitty backed out of the chat, “We should send them a picture,” He murmured, leaning up to press a careful kiss to Jack’s cheek. “I mean, you don’t look that bad.” He was able to get the tease out, and he was very proud of himself. Jack managed a smile, and Bitty considered it a win. “Not that bad, eh? Okay, I’m sure there are worse pictures of me out there.” 

It wasn’t so rare now that Jack and Bitty took selfies together. They took them rather often, really, and usually on Bitty’s insistence, but this was different. Everything about it felt… off. Wrong. Still, Bitty shifted until they were both at decent angles before taking the picture. Jack looked so washed out, ghostly pale and sickly but he was alive, and well, that’s the most Bitty could ask for right then. Bitty looked exhausted and nearly as bad as Jack. He needed to get some sleep. “What should we say?” he asked. “Or should we just send the picture?” 

Jack mulled it over a moment, “What’s the meme? The one with the guy in the coma? Shitty showed it to me a while ago.” 

Bitty blinked a few times. “You mean the ‘I lived bitch’ one?” 

“Yes! That,” Jack smiled. “Do that,” he decided, and so Bitty did. There it was, a picture of the two of them with the accompanying ‘I lived bitch’ text. The team was going to lose their minds. 

Holster  
JAk JAXK JACK JACK   
BRO HOLY FUCK WAS THAT A MEME REFRENCE

Lardo  
Did our fearless rock lord just quote a meme at us? After getting into an insane accident????? How hard did you hit your head????

Chowder  
Jack! I’m so glad you’re okay! We’ve been so worried about you! 

Ransom  
JACK MUST HAVE A CONCUSSION IF HE’S USING MEMES AT US  
And I mean this in the best way, because you’re my Canadian bro, but you look like shit

Shitty  
JACK LIGHT OF MY LIFE, CANADIAN DREAMBOAT, DO NOT LISTEN TO A FUCKING WORD RANSOM SAYS YOU ARE AS BEAUTIFUL AS EVER. IN THE WORDS OF KEANU REEVES: YOU ARE BREATHTAKING. FUCKING STUNNING. 

At the very least the texts were making Jack smile. Bitty smiled a little as well, but he couldn't bring it in himself to really enjoy it all, there were still so many unanswered questions and… He sighed but when Jack asked about it, he passed it off as nothing. Because it wasn’t anything he wanted Jack to help with. Bitty was about to suggest they read the texts about the other players when they heard talking up the hall. Very loud, very Shitty talking. There was plenty of warning before Shitty burst into the room, people on the floors above and below them probably would have been able to hear him coming, “Holy fuck, look at you, you beautiful bastard.” He walked over, planting a big kiss on Jack’s cheek. 

“Hey, Shits,” Jack smiled a little and reached up to squeeze Shitty’s arm in greeting. “How are you doing?” 

“How am I doing? How the fuck are you?” Shitty sat down next to Jack. Lardo shuffled in and sat beside Bitty; he was grateful for her silence. More than just Shitty talking at once would be too overwhelming. She held Bitty’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. For a while, Shitty and Jack spoke, and Bitty was grateful for the break. 

He startled when Shitty loudly announced they were departing,.“You too, Bits, visiting hours are over. We’ll be able to come back later.” 

Bitty frowned, “What? I don’t want to-” 

“No arguments. Mama and Papa Zimmermann have gotten us rooms at a nearby hotel for the next few days. Say goodbye, we gotta go.” 

Jack turned to look at Bitty, “I’ll see you in the morning, Bits. I’ll be okay,” he promised. Bitty chewed his lip but nodded. It wasn’t like he had a choice. “Okay,” he whispered, standing to press a kiss to Jack’s temple and then his lips. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Jack kissed back easily. “Take care of yourself, okay?” 

“Yeah, okay,” Bitty pulled away and was ushered out by Shitty, who must’ve known he would’ve stood there if he wasn’t being brought along by force. “Wait!” he said when they got into the hall, “Tater. I have to say goodbye.” He hurried down the hall to where Tater was already asleep. The drugs they had given him were strong, Bitty knew. He hurried over, kissing Tater’s temple, “See you tomorrow, Tater,” he whispered before leaving the hospital with Lardo and Shitty practically dragging him out.


	2. The Aces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kent is in a good place after many, many years in the league and decides it's time to come out. 
> 
> It does not go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER HAS VERY STRONG HOMOPHOBIA!!!! See the end for a summary and trigger warnings and spoilers for the chapter.
> 
> Also, I wrote the funniest joke of my life in the chapter, so I hope y'all notice it.

Kent took a deep breath. He wasn’t nervous, no. Kent Parson didn’t get nervous, but he was… on edge. This was a big deal since only three people knew he was gay; his mother, Jack, and Eric. But things were getting harder and harder. It was getting tiring, having to listen to the locker room talk, being alone all the time, having to hide. The constant use of the gay lifestyle as an insult and the constant slurs were getting to be too much. To the point where he didn’t know if he could continue to play hockey; that was probably the scariest thought he’d ever had. Hockey was his life, he was good at hockey. No, he was the  _ best  _ at hockey, and it was getting to be too much of a burden. He couldn't remember the last time he enjoyed being on the ice.   


He’d decided that he was going to come out, consequences be damned. He didn’t want to leave the Aces, he was good enough that he didn’t think the Aces were just going to let him go. There was a meeting called between himself and management. He was just going to say it. No preamble. No second-guessing.   


He strolled into the conference room, head held high. It would be fine.   


The men who sat in front of him were all old, wrinkly, with white hair. A few had mustaches. They were all white and wearing suits that were worth more than some people’s salaries. Part of him wanted to be judgemental, but that was a little too hypocritical.   


“What’s the meaning of this?” the general manager asked. “You called this meeting. Do you want to leave? Your contract isn’t up for-”   


Kent shook his head, “Nope. I’m gay.”   


That got their attention. The general manager’s mouth snapped closed, the other men gaped. He wasn’t even sitting down yet but he had done what he’d set out to do, though it wasn’t easy to ignore the new suffocating feeling that surrounded them all.   


“This is a joke,” the AGM said. “You’re pulling our leg.” His eyebrows were knitted together, in, what Kent assumed, was anger. At least, the man looked angry.   


Finally, Kent sat down, setting his calf on his knee and leaning back like he owned the place. He liked to think he did, the reason the Aces were as good as they were was because of him. “I wouldn’t joke about this.”   


Once more, silence filled the room. He could see the wheels turning in their heads. In a few moments, there might even be smoke. One thing that Kent loved to do was through people off, it was the one thing he felt he could really control. In front of the cameras putting on a show was easy, getting under Jack’s skin was almost  _ too  _ easy. This was the same sort of thing. They were all thrown for a loop, trying to understand where he was coming from, why he was going this. He was almost proud of himself, but realistically he knew that it wasn’t a great reaction. He was at risk now.

The scary thing was he didn’t care. Much.

“This is a problem,” one of them said. Kent had zoned out, wasn’t paying attention so he didn’t know who had said it. It wasn’t like it mattered, they were all clones anyway.   


He startled, then laughed maniacally. “A problem? My sexuality is a problem?”   


The general manager nodded, “We like to keep a certain… image to the public,” he started carefully. Kent blinked a few times, taken aback. They couldn't be serious. “Jack Zimmermann is one of the most popular players in the league and he’s bi.”   


“He still likes women.”   


“He’s dating a man!” Kent said, leaning forward a little. “He likes both men and women, sure, but he’s in a committed relationship with a  _ man _ ! You can’t ignore half of his identity because it doesn’t line up with your agenda!” Fury was clouding his vision, but he didn’t want to lose his cool, not in front of these men who were now looking for any reason they could to have him removed from the team. He breathed in slowly, through his nose.   


He was the best player they had, they would be stupid to get rid of him.   


“I don’t see how this is an issue. I don’t plan on coming out publicly anytime soon, but I don’t want to hide from my teammates anymore.”   


The men who were across the table nodded their heads. “Is that all?” the general manager asked coolly. His tone could freeze the ice they practiced on.   


“Suppose so.” Kent stood up, shoving his hands into his pockets before leaving quickly. That hadn’t gone how he had wanted it to at all. The sad thing, though, is it went exactly as he had expected it to.   


The next few days were rough. Kent could feel management breathing down his neck, just waiting for him to screw up so that they could get rid of him. It seemed to be a mistake, coming out to them, but he was convinced that his team would have his back. Not all of them were so open-minded, but they all liked him. He was their captain, their friend. Being gay didn’t change that. He was still the same person.

There was no plan. Like most of his career, he was just going to wing it because he was good at that. The only thing he knew for sure was that it was going to happen when they went to the bar. ‘The Bar’ was a bar whose name was just that. It was dirty but the paparazzi hadn’t caught onto them yet, the music was pretty good and the alcohol cheap. It was a weekly tradition to go at least once during the week when they weren’t on roadies. The season was still just starting, so they could be a little more reckless than usual. The start of the season was always Kent’s favorite. They got to go out without any pressure and it was a good way to bond with the new players. Plus, on occasion, cute boys would flirt with him, which was the icing on the cake.   


~~~

The guys were being loud. It wasn’t really a surprise but it was getting on Kent’s nerves, despite the fact he’d been looking forward to this very get together just a few hours ago. Leaned back against the wall, he let his head tip back to  _ thunk  _ gently against the wood. They were all congregated at the back of the bar, a few teammates leering at some women who were just there to dance.   


One of his teammates, Brody, slid up beside him. Brody was nice enough, taller than Parse, he had dark hair and green eyes that looked like the color of the forest in the dim light of the bar.   


“You gonna get some tonight?” Brody shouted over the din of the music.   


“Ha,” Parse took a sip of his beer, “I dunno, probably not. You know me, Brody. All bark, no bite.”   


Brody laughed. “C’mon! What about that girl over there? Her tits are-” He held his hand, the one that was holding a beer, in front of him to mimic what he thought this woman looked like. She was pretty, had red hair with a short black dress and legs for days. Kent could appreciate a good looking woman when he saw one, but this was something else. Brody really was a creep sometimes and it made Kent want to roll his eyes so hard his eyes popped out of his skull.   


“Not my type.”   


“Not your type?! What the fuck is your type then?”   


This was his shot. Much like with hockey he was lining the puck up with the net, taking a deep breath and, “Men, typically.” And there it was. Unlike hockey, he wouldn’t know if this was a goal or a miss for a little while.   


The silence stretched between them for a long time, Brody staring at Kent, “You’re fucking with me.”   


“Never,” He shook his head a bit. “I’m gay.” The relief that washed over Kent at the words were short-lived as Brody moved his arm off of where it had been slung over his shoulders. Kent couldn’t quite describe what he was feeling but it wasn’t great, and it wasn’t a feeling he was used to. Not anymore anyway. Not since Jack. It was helplessness, that horrible out of control feeling where everything was spiraling and he couldn't stop it. It was looking like this was going to be a missed goal.   


“I see,” Brody finally said. He cleared his throat, eyes darting around for an out. “Oh, I think Cash needs me so I’m going to-” Just like that, Kent was left alone, staring into the nearly-empty beer bottle clutched in his hand.

Kent’s shoulders slumped and he downed the rest of his beer in a few long gulps. He shouldn't feel bad for being himself, shouldn't feel the need to apologize but… in his head, he shook himself. He was Kent  _ fucking _ Parson, he felt good about coming out. He wasn’t going to have to carry it around like a burden anymore.   


“Hey!” Scraps said, bouncing to Kent’s side. Scraps. God bless Scraps. “Hey, kid,” Kent looked over. The kid wasn’t that much younger than Parse, he was pretty sure the age difference was five years.

“What crawled up Brody’s ass?” Scraps asked, leaning back against the wall next to Kent. “He was fine a couple minutes ago but then he came and talked to you. He was being awfully creepy, you tell him off?”   


Kent shook his head. Third time’s a charm? He really didn’t want to fuck his relationship with Scraps up, he really liked him, probably more so than anyone else on the team. He took a deep breath, “Nah, I told him I was gay.”   


Scraps blinked a few times as the words fully sunk into his brain, “Oh! You did? That’s great! Unless it isn’t… but it has to be! What a weight off your shoulders! Are you proud of yourself? I’m proud of yo-!” Kent turned to look at him with a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Whoa, whoa, calm down, man.” Playing Scraps’ reaction off like it wasn’t changing all of the thoughts that had been swimming in his head the past few minutes was easy after years of acting for the camera. The support was much appreciated, especially since it was becoming apparent he might need more than originally thought.   


“Sorry,” Scraps snapped his mouth closed but was still looking at Kent with wide shining eyes. Like the man had gone and hung the moon, “Brody not take it well?”   


“I feel like I should’ve seen it coming but-”   


“You’re still our captain! I’m sure things will be fine.” He bumped Kent’s shoulder with his own, his smile blinding.   


“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you’re right,” Kent pushed off the wall. “C’mon, I need another drink.” Scraps pushed off the wall as well and bounded after Kent like a puppy as they made their way to the bar.   


By the end of the night, Kent was feeling good, though that may have been the alcohol talking. Brody had gone round telling people that he was gay, which was fine. That’s what Kent had wanted because, in his humble opinion, it was easier to come out a few times then have people talk about it. He probably should care more about what they would be saying about him, sat them all down to make a general announcement but that wasn’t how his brain worked. It would be fine. Like Scraps said, he was still their captain.   


The next day meant practice. They were all just a little hungover, and Kent wasn’t as early as usual, instead, he was about the middle of the pack. Half the team was there, half were still arriving. He dropped his duffle into his locker and was about to turn to get ready when something caught his eye. Written across the back of the locker in big sharpie letters was ‘fag’. Stumbling backward, he whirled around to the members of the team that were already in.

“What the fuck is this?!” he practically screeched. The anger that was pulsing through his veins was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. It was hot, it was cold, it was all-consuming. There were tears in his eyes, maybe even a few slipping down his cheeks and he hated himself for letting them see him cry. “Who the fuck did this?!”   


The team stayed silent. His team. The people he thought he could trust were- sucking in a harsh breath, he left quickly, without saying anything else. He went to talk to management, because while he knew they weren’t supportive, surely they couldn’t condone that.   


They didn’t talk for long, and the conversation wasn’t as productive as it should have been. These old, white, straight men told Kent that there was nothing they could do, that he should have thought about this before coming out. The underlying message was abundantly clear, ‘This is your fault. You deserve this.’ He grit his teeth. What fucking ever. He was there to play hockey, and by god, that’s what he would do. He’d play the best hockey of his god damn life. Things would get easier when the wound wasn’t as fresh.   


Only, two weeks later things weren’t any better. In fact, they were a lot worse. The Aces stopped protecting him on the ice. It was nearly impossible to focus, there were missed shots that should have been easy to make. It was the worst hockey of his life, and he knew that management couldn't wait until the end of the season when they could make a trade. ‘We can’t support you anymore, you just aren’t performing like you used to,’ they’d say. There were already talks from commentators about a trade, if he was worth all the hype, if other teams would be able to get a good deal on a ‘fading star’. Like they had any fucking clue what was going on. A few times he almost texted Jack to ask how he had managed it, though that was a line he couldn’t cross. Not yet. Not when their relationship was still so strained.   


He talked a good game though. When people asked what was going on it was easy to brush it off like it was nothing, ‘Everyone gets in a funk, even me. Seems unlikely, I know.’ He smirked at the camera, even winked for show. Pretending was easy and he could do it for as long as everyone needed him to.   


The one good thing was Scraps. Joseph Scarpitti, who went by Scraps with the team and Jay with his other friends and family. His very big, very Italian family, as Kent soon learned. Sometimes when they were talking about Jay’s family (his three sisters and two brothers and parents, not to mention the grandparents, aunts, and uncles) Kent’s mind would wander, and he’d wonder what it felt like to come from a big, loving family like Scraps did. He tried not to dwell on those thoughts too much, instead just focusing on Jay. Scraps wasn’t like the other members of the team, he talked to Kent every day, even texted him when they were home after practice.

When Kent stopped going to bar night, Jay would stopover with a six-pack and the promise of pizza, which Kent was more than a little grateful for. The first night they’d done it, Scraps had ended up staying much later than he should have and made use of the rarely used guest room. Kent found that having company was rather enjoyable.

Then, the unthinkable. He was texting Scraps when the notification popped up on his phone, ‘ _ Connecticut Accident Confirmed to Be Bus of Providence Falconers’.  _ Kent’s heart stopped, “Fuck, fuck, fuck-”   


He clicked on the article, noticing that there was a live feed that’s only just started a few minutes prior. He turned the TV on to the right channel and sat back, eyes wide and body numb. On autopilot, he called Jay. He didn’t really know what else to do and there was no one else for him to call. As the phone rang the realization that Scraps had no idea about his past with Jack struck; no one knew except for Jack’s partner, Eric. He was about to hang up when Jay answered.   


“Kent? You okay?” Worry laced his voice. Kent had expressed that he wasn’t fond of phone calls, though he wouldn’t say why. Had something to do with too much emotion or something.   


Kent hated the way his voice shook when he spoke of what was going on, “Did you hear? The accident-”   


“Accident? What are you talking about?”   


“The bus! The Falconers!” He hadn’t meant to shout but he was too nervous, too on edge to think clearly. “There was an accident, it’s on tv.” The phone was clutched so tightly in his hand, his knuckles were turning white.

Jay was quiet for a few moments. “How bad?”

“Real bad,” he whispered. “They say they don’t know if anyone is dead yet but it looks so bad, Scraps. It-” He took a deep breath. “It looks so bad.”   


There was silence on the other side of the line. The news anchor was talking about something, though, having zoned out, Kent wasn’t sure what. He was focused on the number of first responder vehicles that had gathered at the scene.   


“Why is this bothering you so much, Kent?” Jay asked carefully.   


Once more he breathed in deeply. “Jack.” He finally said, feeling like something had dislodged from his throat when the name passed his lips, “Jack’s on that bus.” Scraps didn’t ask him to elaborate, and Kent was grateful. He didn’t think he’d be able to explain it. No, he knew he wouldn't be able to. They talked for a while, Scraps never once breaking the conversation, which is why Kent was so surprised when there was a knock at the door that could also be heard over the phone.   


He blinked, “You’re here.” It wasn’t a question.   


“Yeah,” Jay said simply. Kent got up and shuffled over, hanging up the phone as he did. He opened it, “You didn’t have to-”   


Jay shook his head, “No one should be alone for this. It’s going to be tough for the whole league.” As he walked in, he put a hand on Kent’s shoulder. “Some will be affected more than others.”   


They watched together as the team was slowly taken out one by one. It wasn’t easy for Scraps either. They were on different teams but they’d played together and, realistically, that could have been any of the teams in the NHL. That could have been them.   


Kent cried as they brought Jack out.   


Jay wrapped his arms around Kent and let him.   


A few hours later Kent sent a message to Bitty, which turned into a short conversation. He wanted desperately to go to Jack, but that was a ridiculous decision, it would draw too much attention as well.   


There were so many rumors getting thrown around, someone was dead, there would be a disaster draft, most of the players were hurt to the point where they won’t be able to come back. Of course, no one knew for sure, aside from Kent (and Scraps, who was there while he was texting Eric). He kept what he knew from his team. Some of what the Aces were saying, aside from the rumors, made his stomach churn.   


‘They deserved it’   


‘Good, they won’t be a threat for the cup this year’

As soon as the conversation with Eric was over, Kent hid his phone.   


Over the next few days, the rumors slowed as more information became available. A lot of the Falconers were incapacitated, like Tater and Fitzgerald. Kent was relieved to hear that Jack was going to be able to play again that season, but he didn’t get in touch with Jack or Bitty again. He wasn’t sure if that was the right call or not, but it was what was best for him.   


The season was on hold until the league could get a handle on what was going to happen next. It was a given that there would be a disaster draft, but it had never happened before so the kinks needed to be worked out.   


A week passed. The NHL released a statement that confirmed what would be happening. The Falconers had just five players that were able to return for the season, the rest of the spots would have to be filled by drafting players from other teams. The teams would be able to protect a few of their players, and once the Falconers had a full roster again, those teams that had lost players would be able to pull up replacements.   


It was complicated and confusing, but Kent wasn’t worried. He was their best player and captain, even with all the bull shit he’d been going through. They’d protect him.

The following week, two weeks after the accident, Kent was called into a meeting with management. Head held high, he assumed, foolishly, that this was about the attacks from his teammates. Things had been getting worse, there was almost no way management could allow it to continue.   


He was not expecting the general manager to look at him and say, “You’re going to the Falconers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Aces are big, big, big assholes. Kent comes out to management and they tell him that it's a problem because of 'image'. When he comes out to the team they write a slur in his locker to get under his skin, they also stop protecting him on the ice. Kent knows he's going to be traded because he's gay, and it really fucks with him. His performance on ice drops way, way down. In the end, he gets sent to the Falconers because the Aces refuse to protect him, despite how good he is/was.


	3. Home Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack finally is released from the hospital. He's home now, so things should start to be okay, right? Right???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think there are any new triggers in this one. Talk about stitches and injuries, emotional suffering?? But that's not new. If you're here for chapter three, you already know what to expect lmao. Oh! Bob makes a sex joke. 
> 
> Well, I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Shout out to my beautiful and wonderful beta reader!!!

In the days following the accident the Falconers released more and more information about the status of the team; they never gave specifics beyond ‘ _player is out for the season’_ or ‘ _player should return’._ There was an outpouring of support from all the teams in the league, especially as it became more apparent a disaster draft was going to be taking place. The season was at a standstill.

Details about how the accident happened were also released. On a four-lane highway, no matter how careful a person is, accidents still can happen. It started with a car in the lane beside the bus. Though it was several feet ahead, a tire blew, causing them to lose control, causing a chain reaction. Cars were swerving, people slammed on their breaks. There was only so much a person could do in a Greyhound when chaos had broken out on the road. The driver, Orlando, had slammed the brakes, lost control and the bus rolled. 

The Falconers weren’t the only ones involved. A truck had run into the bus from behind, and people ahead of them had gone off the road. All in all, it was a shit show. 

Orlando was the only one who passed away. 

After only another day, Shitty and Lardo were on their way back to Boston. Unfortunately, they had work and ‘adult things to do’, as Lardo had said while making a face. At the very least, it had made Jack smile. After they left, Jack got some other visitors, namely, the rest of the SMH crew. Luckily, Jack was going to make a full recovery, and would even be able to return that season. It would just take a month or two. Bitty wasn’t sure who in the room had cried harder at the news. Tater’s prognosis, however, was much worse. He would be on bed rest for a while, and in the hospital for weeks longer than Jack. Eventually, after he got discharged, he would be going to live with Jack and Bitty. He lived alone, and wouldn’t be able to take care of himself properly. 

The same day Shitty and Lardo went back to Boston, Jack was allowed to get out of bed and walk around. Bitty could tell how much it hurt him, how every breath, every shift, was undoubtedly excruciating, but he refused to take it easy and just sit for a second. He made a beeline for Tater’s room, Bitty hot on his heels. 

“Tater,” Jack choked out as soon as he was through the threshold, breathing raggedly, he was trying desperately to get it under control. The walk was short but hard for Jack, and breathing hurt because of his ribs.

“Jack! Is good to see you. Bitty is right, I look better.” He smiled, using the remote on his bed to raise himself into a sitting position. Tater was the first teammate that Jack had seen since the accident. Bitty put a hand on Jack’s arm. “Why don’t you sit, sweetpea,” he suggested before gently leading Jack to a chair. Reluctantly, Jack allowed Bitty to move him to a chair, where he sat down heavily, his whole body protesting. 

“You look awful, I can’t imagine what that means for me,” Jack finally choked out in a strained voice. Bitty sat beside him, holding Jack’s hand as tight as he dared, terrified that if he held on too tight something would break. He felt so uncomfortable and out of place, but he was scared of what would happen to Jack if he left. Tater ended up breaking the silence.

“Have you heard from teammates yet?” 

Jack took a deep breath, “I’ve been using Bitty’s phone to talk to the people that are able to talk.” 

Bitty had been keeping Tater up to date on all the news since neither of the boys had their phones on them. They were going to have to get new ones, as were most of the team. Almost all the phones were either swept up with the debris or destroyed beyond repair. 

Tater nodded slowly, “Is not good. Little B been telling me. I’ve not spoken to anyone other than him-” Bitty shifted uncomfortably. Tater had been so in the dark, at least Jack had been able to use a phone, even if it wasn’t his own. Why hadn’t Bitty thought to get Tater something that allowed him to keep in touch? “But soon I’m transferred to Providence. Only day or two after you leave, B was telling me.” He looked away from them and up at the blank ceiling, save a few water stains. “Is no good feeling, being able to leave but only going someplace else that is not home.” 

Once more silence stretched between them. The ever-present guilt that was in the pit of Jack’s stomach seemed to grow even more at the words. “I’m sorry, Tater. It-” 

“ _No._ ” He didn’t snap the words, it wasn’t in his nature, but the tone was much more stern than Bitty had ever heard him be with Jack before. “I know what you thinking, Jack. You can’t be going there. What happened is happened. We could not have known this happen when we get on bus. Always risk we take.” He looked seriously at Jack, his gaze heavy. “Will be okay. You go out and win championship this year.” 

Jack barked out a laugh which definitely hurt him. His wince caused Bitty to flinch a little in sympathy. With what looked like a lot of effort, Jack moved his hand against his side, face contorted slightly in pain, “You’re already thinking about that?” The words were forced out through gritted teeth. 

“Yes! Would be greatest story in all of history! We win the cup this year, you wait and see. They will make movie in few years.” 

Jack smiled softly, “Maybe you’re right, Tater.” Slowly, Jack’s eyes slipped closed, and he leaned back in his chair. Immediately, Bitty knew what was going on: Jack was falling asleep. It just seemed to solidify how much this whole ordeal was taking out of Jack. 

“C’mon honey,” he whispered, “We need to get you back to your room.” Jack stood slowly, nodding lazily at his partner's words; it looked like he was moving through molasses. 

They said goodnight to Tater and left. Bob and Alicia were out but would be back to get Bitty before visiting hours ended. Leaving was Bitty’s least favorite time of the day. He worried for Jack at night, terrified that he would go off and do something stupid, like check out or wander around trying to find the other few players that were admitted to the same hospital. So far his fears had been unfounded, but tonight was the first night Jack was able to walk, and Bitty was on edge.

Once they were settled back in the room, with Jack in bed (much to his chagrin), and Bitty in his chair, they sat back and talked. They talked about Tater and his transfer to Providence, what it was going to look like in the house now that things seemed to be so different. 

After a few beats of silence, Bitty spoke hesitantly, “Jack-” 

Things had finally been settling. The Falconers were handling all of the information that became available to the public, fielding questions about the team. That didn’t stop people from asking questions on social media, nor did it stop newscasters from speculating on things they didn’t understand. But with the Falconers in charge of the big decisions, the stress that Bitty had been feeling was slowly changing into something else. Fear. Dread. Jack wasn’t okay, and Bitty could see that in everything his partner did and said. It went beyond just the physical injuries he had sustained. 

“Jack, I’m scared,” he finally finished, after a long period of silence, looking at Jack through his eyelashes and breathing in deeply through his nose. “I’m so scared. I don’t know what’s going to come next with Tater eventually moving in with us. He’s going to need ‘round the clock care and you… I know you’re going to be okay. I do,” fingers dug into Jack’s hand, clinging to him like he was a lifeline, “but it’s terrifying to be here. To see you like this.” Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he leaned back in the chair, eyes trained on the ceiling. 

He heard Jack shift on the bed, the sheets crinkling underneath him as he moved a little closer to Bitty. “This isn’t easy, and it’s not going to get easier for a long time,” His thumb ran over Bitty’s knuckles gently. “I can’t thank you enough for all that you’ve done so far and for what you’re going to have to do next. This is scary… I wish I could make you feel better like you’ve done for me-” 

Bitty finally looked at Jack, eyes were so full of sadness, all their usual life drained from them., “It’s okay, sweetpea. I know you’re struggling. It isn’t fair of me to put this on you.” 

“No, Bits, no.” Jack immediately shook his head but hissed slightly. He was having slight headaches from the concussion and quick movements aggravated them. “I want you to tell me these things. I need you to. We’re in this together, eh? Through sickness and health?” 

A smile forced its way onto Bitty’s lips. “We aren’t even married yet, Jack,” he chastised, leaning over to very carefully press their foreheads together. 

“Not yet we aren’t.” Jack pressed a ghost of a kiss against Bitty’s lips. “Soon,” he whispered, “I’m going to marry you so hard.” 

The laugh that came out of Bitty was closer to a bark. It clawed its way out of his throat unexpectedly, taking them both just a little off guard, “You’re ridiculous!” He cupped Jack’s cheek. “You ridiculous man. I love you so much.” 

“I love you too, bud.” 

On the day Jack was sent home, The Falconers finally released the injury report for everyone on the team. Only five of their players would be able to come back; Jack, Snowy, Marty, Tiny, and Linguini, two players that Bitty had never gotten to know very well. Poots had a concussion that all but incapacitated him on top of a broken ankle that wasn’t bad enough to be career-ending but did end his season. Thirdy and Guy announced their retirements, both planning on retiring at the end of the year anyway, and with the injuries they’d sustained, it didn’t make sense to push so hard to come back. Tater’s report said: out indefinitely with a broken leg. Tater had expressed that he wanted to be the one to announce he wasn’t going to be able to skate anymore but refused to do so from a hospital bed. There was another team member whom Bitty didn’t know that was going to try to come back next year, but he had lost fingers. Bitty wondered how he would ever manage to pull something like that off. 

The media was a mess when the information got released. It was obvious that a disaster draft was going to have to take place, though Jack was sure they’d already been looking into players to take. While they were on their way back to Providence, Bob driving, Alicia in the passenger’s seat, and Jack and Bitty in the back, they talked about people that would be a good match for the fragmented team. Bitty didn’t want to talk about hockey anymore, and he certainly didn’t think it was good for Jack. The drive was already tense, as it took a lot of convincing to get him in the car at all. 

“Kenny would be good but the Aces will never let him go,” Jack said like it wasn’t a big deal. To Bitty it was. Not only was Jack thinking about hockey, which was no doubt difficult given his mental state, but he was thinking about hockey _with Parse._ Given Bob’s sudden silence, he must’ve been thinking the same thing. 

“Best not to think about it then, eh?” Bob said.

The plan when they got back to the city was to have Bob and Alicia stay for the next two days to help the boys get settled. They also wanted to wait for Tater’s transfer to go through. It wasn’t that anyone thought something was going to go wrong, they were just looking at the worst-case scenario. 

The first night wasn’t as bad as Bitty had been expecting it to be. Jack walked around very gingerly, his body hunched and small. That had been just a little off-putting at first. Usually, Jack could fill a room, not just with his body (which was quite big), but with his presence. Not many people knew it because they never bothered to get to know Jack well enough, but he was like sunshine. A protective ray of sunshine that made anyone who was in the same room feel like they were safe and cared for. Not feeling that, not even seeing it, really threw everyone for a loop, though Bob and Alicia did a good job hiding it. 

Bitty doted on him, ordering him to sit and relax. Once Jack was sitting in the living room, Bob and Alicia with him, Bitty disappeared into the kitchen. Alicia had ordered groceries on the way back from Connecticut and they’d been waiting when the four of them had arrived back to the apartment. Things had spoiled while they were away and their kitchen needed to be restocked. She’d made sure to get some of Jack’s favorite things (chicken tenders included) with plenty of baking ingredients for her son-in-law. 

Having disappeared to the kitchen, Bitty started to put everything away, while getting the ingredients he’d need to make blueberry muffins out as well. They’d be good for breakfast, plus they’d be easy enough to sneak into the hospital once Tater got transferred. That boy did love his blueberries. Though in the kitchen, he could still see everyone and participate in the conversation if he wanted, but he needed alone time. He needed time to get his mind in the right place and the only way to do what was baking. 

Bitty could feel Jack’s eyes on him like a weight, or a hand on his shoulder, every once in a while as he moved around the apartment, flitting from the kitchen to the living room to make sure that no one needed anything. Bitty was nothing if not the perfect host. After the muffins were done, a pie was started. Maple sugar apple because it was Jack’s favorite and Jack deserved a pie. Well, really he deserved so much more than a pie but those were things Bitty couldn't give him. Things out of his control. Pie, however, was his thing. That he could control.

This thing happened while in the kitchen for Bitty; time always slowed down. In his mind, hardly any time had passed since they’d gotten back home, but, when a hand snaked its way around his middle, the world sped back up. It had been quite a while, hadn’t it? There were muffins cooling on the counter, a pie in the oven. A breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding puffed past his lips.

“You need to sit.” It was Jack and he was murmuring against the golden hair on the top of Bitty’s head. “You’ve been on your feet since we got home. You need a break.”

“No, Jack. I need to-” He turned in Jack’s arms, making them chest to chest. This way, they could make eye contact. “You need to be sitting and resting. Who let you get up?” 

“I’m nearly twenty-nine, Bits, I can make my own decisions.” Silence filled the kitchen as they looked at each other, silently challenging the other to make a move. Jack caved first. “Fine, I’ll go back to the living room but the pie has a half-hour left. Can you sit with us while it’s finishing?”

“How do you know how long my pie has left? The timer is on my phone.” Bitty’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“I’ve been living with you for years. You really think I don’t know how long each of your pies takes to bake?” Jack smiled, eyes crinkling around the edges. It was the first genuine smile Bitty had seen on Jack in days. It made Bitty’s heart swoop. 

Bitty smiled gently, “Okay, okay. I’ll come sit with you.”

The two made their way to the living room. Jack had to lower himself onto the sofa carefully, which broke Bitty’s heart. He was doing a lot better than he had been but knowing he was hurting… the blond shook himself before settling onto the couch on the opposite end from Jack. Not even their thighs were touching.

“I’m not going to break,” Jack said, holding a hand over to Bitty so that he could tuck himself against his side. 

“You will,” Bitty crossed his arms defiantly. 

Bob and Alicia were watching from their position on the love seat. Alicia cleared her throat, “You know Bob got hurt like this once. Well, he didn't have the cuts like you do, dear, but the ribs. Cracked almost all of them on the one side of his body-” 

“It was a dirty hit,” Bob clucked his tongue. “I don’t remember the hit itself but I’ve seen the video.” 

“The stadium had gone silent but he managed to skate off-” 

“No idea how I did-” 

“Stop interrupting!” She admonished gently, lightly hitting his arm. Bob grinned at her, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Sorry.” 

“I’m sure you are. _Anyway,_ ” She looked at Bob with such a fondness it made Bitty’s chest warm. Jack looked at him that way, and not even when he thought no one was looking. He was always looking at Bitty like he’d just hung the moon… how lucky to have that in his life. “-He had to sit out a few games. But I was so afraid I was going to hurt him. He looked like he was in so much pain, I didn’t want to make it worse-” 

“I wasn’t having any of that tho-” 

“Bob!” Alicia put a hand over his mouth. “I’ll gag you.” 

From behind her hand, Bob mumbled something. Alicia kept it there for a few moments before moving her hand. “What was that?” 

“I said ‘don’t start something you can’t finish’.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Alicia gasped, “Robert Zimmermann-!” 

Jack made a face, “ _Papa!_ ” 

Bob tilted his head back and laughed loudly, “Sorry, sorry!” 

“You are not! I can’t believe you!” Alicia was smiling, grinning, really, her face split in this blinding smile as she shook her head with exasperation, “You’re a ridiculous man.” 

Poor Bitty had no idea what to do. He sat with his hands in his lap, looking between the three of them like it as the most bizarre game of tennis he’d ever had the misfortune of watching. Not once in his life had the Bittles ever said something like that, and if they did? Bitty wasn’t sure what exactly he’d do… maybe sink into the floor. 

“I’m so sorry about him,” Jack said, looking over at Bitty apologetically, “Can’t take him anywhere.” 

Bitty smiled, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Jack’s cheek, “Honey, it’s okay,” he chuckled, “Don’t apologize.” With the kiss to his cheek, Bitty had effectively moved closer to Jack, awarding Jack the opportunity to wrap his arm around Bitty and pull him close. 

“Mission accomplished,” Bob grinned, giving Alicia a high-five. 

“What?” Jack asked, tilting his head to the side. 

Bob gestured between the two of them, “Got you to sit close.” He appeared proud of himself.

Alicia rolled her eyes, “My way was a lot less crude.” 

“Less fun,” Bob argued. 

Bitty watched them banter. It was nice. He hoped that when he and Jack were their age they were still able to have fun and joke around. He tilted his head onto Jack’s shoulder. “Is this okay?” 

Jack smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of Bitty’s head. “Of course it is, Bits.” 

Curled against Jack for the first time in days, Bitty drifted off to sleep. Jack wasn’t far behind him but was managing to stay awake to have a half conversation with his parents. Just a few minutes later, the timer on Bitty’s phone went off, causing him to stir, but Alicia was already in the kitchen. She pulled the pie out of the oven as Bitty was turning off the alarm, “Oh, Alicia, I’m sorry. I should-” 

“Nonsense,” she shook her head, setting the pie on the counter. “You two head off to bed.” 

“But we didn’t hear the end of your stor-” The end of Bitty’s sentence was cut off by a very loud yawn. “Oh, dear, that was terribly rude of me.” 

“Go sleep,” Alicia smiled again. “I’ll tell you in the morning. It isn’t so exciting anyway, I just wanted you to feel comfortable with Jack.” 

Bitty stood, then helped Jack to his feet by gently pulling him up. They said their goodnights before heading off to their bedroom just down the hall, hand in hand. They hadn’t slept in the same bed in four nights, which wasn’t the longest they’d ever gone, but it felt like it was. They got ready in silence. The stitches in Jack’s side needed to be taken care of, and Bitty didn’t hesitate to help him. Sat in the bathroom, in silence, Bitty carefully cleaned the stitches. There were so many bruises and cuts that he’d seen on the first day, and though it’d only been a few days Jack was looking so much better. 

Once that was taken care of, they crawled into bed. Bitty scooted over close to Jack but instead of resting his head on Jack’s shoulder like he used to, he only allowed their arms to brush, “If we cuddle will it hurt you?” he asked, worry lacing his voice. 

“Not even a little. I bet it’ll make me feel better.” He pulled Bitty close, and almost right away he was curled around Jack, being careful of his injuries. They both sighed at the same time like an exhale of tensions they’d both been holding; Both exhausted from the past few days, they fell asleep in almost no time at all. 

The next day Tater got to Providence in one piece. Bitty went to visit while Jack and his parents stayed at the house. Sneaking in the muffins went off without a hitch, and it was worth it too. When Tater saw what Bitty had brought, his face lit up like a Christmas tree. 

“Can never thank you enough! Was getting sick of hospital food.” 

Bitty stayed with Tater for a few hours. They talked about nothing in particular, other than the video he planned on releasing when he was allowed to leave the hospital. There was on date for his release as of yet, however. 

When Bitty left he felt that ever-present pull of guilt. Tater didn’t have anyone in the United States aside from the team, and while Bitty knew they’d been visiting and would continue to visit, it just didn’t feel right. The wives already promised to be in and out as often as they could, and the few team members who were discharged would also visit but they weren’t going to be the ones taking care of Tater when he eventually was discharged. Bitty was. 

Bob and Alicia left the next day. They had stopped in to see Tater on their way to the airport, with the promise of coming to see him again as soon as they were able to.

For the next few days, things went pretty well. The NHL finally announced a disaster draft was going to be taking place during the following week, and it had Jack on edge. Well, more on edge than he had been. Bitty didn’t want to be too hard on Jack, he had been through an awful trauma, and Bitty wouldn't expect him to be mentally okay right away. Only, it seemed like there was more to it than that. Jack was much more withdrawn than usual; locking himself in the office for hours at a time. Bitty wasn’t sure what went on in there, but he had heard some hockey talk, which probably meant that he was watching tapes. Jack would also stare out their window, watching the cars below and when Bitty came up behind him, Jack would jump and then hiss in pain. He wasn’t talking to Bitty anymore. It was like they were strangers in their own home. But Bitty tried his best to be understanding, he tried so hard. 

Soon, the disaster draft was upon them. The team had been left out of the loop when it came to decisions, which made sense. The organization had no obligation to tell Jack who was going to be on the team for the season, the Falcs had let everyone (people who were going to continue playing, and those who weren’t), that they’d be informed in an email who was picked, so the call form George really threw them for a loop. Especially since it was a few days before the initial notice was supposed to be sent out. 

“Jack,” her voice floated through the phone. He hadn’t heard from her since this mess had started, and, maybe he’d missed her a lot more than he had thought. “I wanted you to know this before you heard about it through an email. We’ve got Kent Parson. He’s going to be your winger.” 

Jack froze, blinking rapidly a few times. Bitty watched from the kitchen where he was drying off the dishes from lunch. Jack had gone so pale so quickly. What could he have heard? Immediately, Bitty’s mind went to the worst-case scenario… had someone else not made it? 

“That’s… why wouldn’t they protect him?” 

“It isn’t our job to ask questions, just to fill the team again.” She was being brisk, but the call meant a lot to Jack. She knew that _something_ had happened between them, just not what it was. “He’s going to be arriving here next week with everyone else. Your physical therapy starts then, right?” 

“I don’t need physical ther-” 

“You do. It’s okay that you do. You’ll be on the ice in less than a month. The season is on hold for the next week anyway, probably another week after that,” she told him. “It’s alright, you’re not going to miss much.” 

“I need to practice with the new team,” he argued. “I can’t do that if I’m doing therapy.” 

“You’ll sit in on the practices and that’s the end of the discussion. I didn’t call you to get into this. I called you because I thought you should know about Parson.” 

Jack took a slow breath in through his nose, letting his eyes close. “Thank you, George, I appreciate it,” he whispered, voice floating on the breath he let out through his mouth.

“Of course, Jack.” She was quiet for a moment and her voice softened. “Take care of yourself, okay?” 

“I’ll try,” he said because it felt like it was the only thing he could promise right then. Bitty was putting the dishes away as he hung up the phone. 

“What was that about?” he asked, setting the towel down and walking over to Jack, who had sat down heavily on the couch, the phone held loosely in his hands. 

“George wanted to let me know that our replacement winger is Kenny.” 

Bitty blinked a few times. “I’m sorry… what? How could the Aces just give him up like that?” 

“I don’t know.” Jack tangled his fingers in his hair and pulled hard, something he’d been doing a lot more since he’d gotten home. Bitty reached up to gently move his hand, lacing their fingers together instead. 

“How are you feeling about that?” he asked softly. 

Jack let Bitty hold his hand for a few moments before pulling away. He shook his head a bit. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said as he abruptly stood up. He hissed softly, the fast movement making his ribs shit and the stitches pull. 

“I’m sorry, Bits, I don’t…” There was a moment where it looked like there was more. Jack was going to say something, he and Bitty were going to have a conversation and everything would be okay. Bitty allowed himself to hope. But, Jack just shook his head and quickly left for the office, shutting the door behind him. 

Bitty stared at the closed door that Jack had disappeared into. An overwhelming feeling of sadness clawed its way up from his stomach, turning him cold. The distance between them grew more and more each day, and there was nothing he could do about it. He put his head in his hands and cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tagging this was hard... as usual. Let me know if I should add anything! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! I love hearing from y'all! It's honestly the highlight of my day.


	4. Familiar Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack meets the new team and is finally able to get onto the ice after weeks away. That's... probably a good thing... right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check the end for TW and spoilers!!

As promised, the following week brought Kent, along with the other replacement team members, to Providence. Jack had watched extensive footage on each new member before meeting them in person, learning their playstyle, their weaknesses, thinking about how they’d work with the rest of the team. They looked like they were good players, people that he could learn to trust after his physical therapy; which shouldn’t last too long. He finally had his stitches out, and in their wake was a long scab that he still had to keep covered. Twisting in certain ways made it hurt but it was fine most of the time, even his ribs were much less tender than they had been. Despite this, going back to the arena filled him with dread. There was so much guilt and anger tied up in there now, and on top of that, he was supposed to take the ice with Kent. He didn’t know how they expected him to do it. 

Three weeks later, Tater was still in the hospital. After so long, so many days and nights spent alone, Tater was finally being told that he could go home. That in only a few days he would be able to live with Bitty and Jack. Bitty wasn’t looking forward to it. There was so much worry and dread swimming around his head; maybe he’d do something wrong, or hurt Tater somehow. Tater would be largely immobile for quite a while, relying on Bitty for almost everything. It was a lot of pressure to put on one person. Jack felt bad but these days he was hardly able to take care of himself.

Jack had to get to the stadium. Usually, it would be just fifteen minutes by car, however, there was no chance in hell he was getting into one. Walking, it seemed, would be his only option. a fifteen-minute drive but he couldn’t get in a car. It was going to take a lot longer than he was used to but, at the time being, he was just there for physical therapy. At least he didn’t have to carry his hockey gear yet. He kissed Bitty quickly before leaving. 

The walk took forever, or at least, it felt like it was taking forever. Jack was tired, not used to walking this much, not since the accident which had taken away all of his endurance, and he was getting out of breath much faster. It ended up taking an hour, which was about fifteen minutes longer than anticipated, and he was late. He couldn’t find it in him to care. The physical therapists tsked and scolded him a little bit before getting to work. “You can’t walk home,” they told him. “You’re going to have to call a ride.”

He grit his teeth and focused more on his reps. 

When his session was finished, he was allowed to go watch the first practice with the new team. Snowy was out there, as was Marty but, like Jack, Tiny and Linguini were going to need a little bit of time. They weren’t at this practice but hopefully, they’d be back soon.

The moment Jack walked into the arena, he knew which skater was Parse even though they weren’t wearing any identifying articles of clothing. He skated the same way he had in the Q. Jack took a deep breath to settle himself and sat behind the glass to watch. He was itching to get out onto the ice. Maybe after everyone had gone he would be able to sneak out to do a few lazy laps.

The men who were there worked well together, even if Marty was a little stiff. Jack knew he and Snowy had had the least amount of injuries; just whiplash and a few pulled muscles. He thought that Marty might have had a concussion but he was over it now if he was able to get on the ice. What Jack wouldn’t give to be out there with them. He shook himself and leaned forward to watch them, fingers pressed against his chin in concentration. At one point or another, he had played against all of these men but it was different to watch them with the knowledge that they were now teammates. They were so different from Jack’s current team- He caught himself. They weren’t his ‘current team’ anymore. Everything was changed. It was all different and he’d never get to skate with the same team ever again. Noticing his breath start to pick up, Jack dropped his head between his knees, tangled his fingers in his hair, and tugged hard. The habit had been picked up sometime between leaving the hospital and the first few days at home, though the exact time couldn’t be pinpointed. It distracted him, if only for a few seconds at a time. Jack got so lost in his head, listening to the scraping of the skates on the ice, focusing on his fingers in his hair that Kent skating up to him went unnoticed. 

“Heya, Zimms.”

Jack jerked his head up so quick that it jostled him. He winced, putting his hand to his temple for a moment. “ _Tabarnak_ -” he cursed before focusing on Kent. “Hi.” 

“You look awful,” Kent said, smirking at him while leaning on his stick. 

“Thanks.” Jack stood so he could talk to Kent better, though he didn’t have the energy to deal with him. “You look good out there.” 

“I fucking better.” Kent looked Jack up and down. Not in a ‘I’m checking you out’ way, but in the ‘I’m making sure you’re okay because I know you’re hurt’ way. “I didn’t get to where I am by not being good.” 

Jack’s hands clenched into fists by his sides; desperately wanting to leave the conversation. “You get along with the other players.” 

“That means nothing. We all know it’s how we get along with you that really matters, captain.” Kent straightened up from where he was leaning against his hockey stick. “But I should go play hockey. That is what they pay me for.” 

“Marty is the captain,” Jack said lamely. “Thir-” He stopped himself. Thirdy had retired, too injured to come back and too proud to make that announcement. It was just him and Marty now, and Marty would be gone at the end of the season, just like the rest of this new team. Next year would be a disaster, just like this one was and- his thoughts were spiraling. He shut his eyes for a second to regain control. 

Kent watched him in silence for a few moments. “You okay?” 

“Fine. Marty is the captain,” Jack said again. 

“Marty doesn’t have a stick up his ass like you do.” 

Jack clenched his jaw and grit out, “You should get back to hockey.” 

“I should.” Kent started skating away backward so he could keep his eyes on Jack the whole time. 

Jack frowned, fingers itching with the need to do _something._ He wanted to get on the ice but that wasn’t going to happen, so instead he texted Bitty, ‘ _Will you come get me? Therapists said I can’t walk home’_ He didn’t want to be in a car at all, but he wanted to get on the ice more than he didn’t want to be trapped in tons of metal and steel that could- Best stop that thought before it got out of control. 

It was a while before he got a response, not that he was really paying attention to his phone. He was watching the players again. Kent controlled the ice like nobody’s business, it looked like everyone was listening to him when he barked out orders. Jack knew Kent had been captain for years, and wouldn’t be used to taking direction from anyone else. He hoped it wouldn't be an issue. It seemed that Marty wasn’t taking control as he should have, wasn’t it better for Marty to be telling everyone what was going on? Jack sighed, he shouldn't question what he didn’t know. He wasn’t even allowed to skate.

His phone bussing away in his hand shook him out of his thoughts. Bitty was calling him. “Hey, Bud.” 

“What do you mean they won’t let you walk? Didn’t you drive there?” 

Jack was quiet for a long while before breathing out. “No, I walked.” 

“ _Jack,”_ Bitty didn’t sound angry, just distressed. “You walked there? You aren’t supposed to be putting yourself through that kind of strain!” 

“I know, I know,” Jack covered his face with his hand. “But I didn’t want to get in the car. I-” His breath started picking up.

Bitty was quiet. “Okay, it’s okay, sweetpea,” he whispered. “It’s okay. I’ll get you. Do you want me to come now?” 

“Yes.” Practice was finishing up anyway, and there would be nothing left for Jack to do other than sit and wish he could get on the ice. “I’m just going to invite everyone to dinner first.” 

The other end of the line went quiet for a long time. “When you say dinner do you mean here?” he asked hesitantly. 

“Do you think that’s okay? We could always go out.” 

“You should do that,” Bitty said firmly. There was no way in hell he was going to have Kent Parson in their home. Not yet, anyway.

“Okay, Bits.” Jack took a deep breath. “I’ll see you in a few minutes. Just text me when you get here, please.” 

“Of course,” he nodded a little even though Jack couldn’t see him. “I’ll see you in a minute.” He hung up. 

With that, Jack pocketed his phone and moved to the locker room. Though miles ahead of where he’d been just a few short weeks ago, physical therapy had kicked his ass, and once again he was moving gingerly. He felt like an old man. The day where he could walk normally couldn't come fast enough. Walking into the locker room after so long away felt odd, or... Maybe it was the multiple pairs of eyes that rained on him the second he was through the threshold; some glanced away as quick as they came, but others didn’t 

“Our fearless leader,” Snowy grinned. He was by his locker, towel slung low on his hips. Jack hadn’t seen him since the accident, but then again, he hadn’t seen many of his teammates. He probably should have been better about that, he was now realizing. Marty had never gone to visit Jack but that was because Jack had told him not to, not because Marty hadn’t wanted to put in the effort. There was really no excuse for Jack to not have checked in with the team in a way that wasn’t through a phone. 

Jack smiled a little bit at Snowy, “How’re you doing?” 

“Not too bad, considering.” He pulled a shirt on. “What about you?” It seemed a ridiculous question now that it was out in the open like that. It was obvious how Jack was doing. His skin was pale, eyes sunken. He looked thinner than Snowy had ever seen him before. 

“It comes and it goes.” It was the most honest he’d been about this whole situation in weeks. Jack didn’t even talk to Bitty about how he was feeling, which, in hindsight, was a horrible idea. Snowy grunted a bit, finally finished getting dressed. Jack, who had been standing for too long now, sat down slowly before sucking in a breath that was rather shallow but was the most he could handle at the moment. 

“How bad is it?” Snowy sat down next to Jack, looking at him seriously. 

Unsure of how to answer, Jack shrugged instead. It wasn’t that bad, was it? No, he was going to be able to play again this season which was more than most of his teammates, so, who was he to complain? “I’m going to have a pretty good scar,” he settled on. 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Snowy narrowed his eyes at Jack. 

Jack sighed, “It’s fine. I’m fine. I should be able to go to practice next week, even if it’s just light drills. I’m hoping to be able to play in the next game.” 

“They haven’t even announced when the next game will be,” Snowy started protesting. 

“The teams have filled their rosters again, this week they’re going to be working on getting a cohesive group. I think we’ll get the announcement tomorrow that next week the season’ll start again.” 

“Jack, that’s hardly any time for you to-” 

“I know.” He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. It made his head hurt and his stomach sick with guilt. “I didn’t come down here to talk about this. Bits is coming to get me in just a minute. I wanted to invite y’all to di-” 

Marty sat down on Jack’s other side, “ _Y’all_ ,” he grinned, very carefully nudging Jack’s shoulder with his own. 

Jack couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto his face. “I’m not going to apologize. You know Bits sometimes says ‘eh’? Anyway, I wanted to invite the new team to dinner. Maybe we can go to that pub we enjoy. Just to get more comfortable with each other.” 

“That’s a good idea, kid,” Marty nodded. “Can I ask why not at your house? Isn’t it a tradition that Eric hosts dinner for the team before the start of the season? This seems like something he’d be all over.” 

Seemingly on their own accord, Jack’s eyes landed on Parse, who was sitting on the bench across from them on his phone. As his fingers flew across the keyboard, he smiled. “No, he said he didn’t want to. Tater is coming home soon, he needs to prepare for that.” It was a believable lie. A good one since he hadn’t thought someone would ask why not at his house. 

It seemed to do the trick; Marty nodded and let it go. They had started to talk details when Jack’s phone buzzed with a text alert from Bitty. “My ride’s here.” He stood up, and as he did, Marty and Snowy shared a look. His ride? Since when did Bitty get demoted to simply ‘his ride’? 

“See you tomorrow, kid. Oh, I’m setting up a group chat for-” Marty gestured to the locker room, “new team. Doesn’t seem right to add them to the old one.” 

“I agree. It’s a good idea.” Jack waved to them. “Let them know about the dinner, please.” As he turned to leave, he remembered he hadn’t said goodbye. Turning slowly to face Marty and Snowy, he said, “Oh, euh, see you tomorrow,” before leaving. He was drained after all that interaction and exhausted from therapy. 

Bitty was parked right by the door when Jack walked out. It was thoughtful, Jack noted, climbing into the car, but Bitty wasn’t smiling. In fact, he was frowning a little. “You should have asked me to drive you,” he said. 

“I didn’t want to be in a car. I still don’t,” Jack responded. As if to draw attention to it, he grabbed the door so hard his knuckles turned white. ‘I don’t want to be in moving vehicles at all.” 

“What are you going to do when ga-” 

“I don’t know,” he snapped, and Bitty fell quiet. Glancing over at Jack for a split second, Bity drove them home silently. 

The whole ride home guilt twisted in Jack’s gut. He felt bad, he shouldn’t have snapped at Bitty like that. None of this was his fault; Jack shouldn’t be taking it out on him. As they walked into their apartment, Jack finally spoke again, “Bits, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped and-” 

“It’s fine, Jack,” Bitty put the keys in the bowl by the door and the noise seemed much too loud for what it was. “I get it, you’re stressed.”

“But that’s not an excuse,” he argued. 

Bitty glanced at Jack before walking into the apartment, heading straight for the kitchen. “I baked some mini pies for the team. Could you take them in tomorrow?” They were neatly wrapped, sitting on the counter, ready to be gifted away.

Jack nodded. “You’re trying to change the subject, Bi-” 

“No shit, Jack.” Now Bitty was snapping. He put his hands flat on the counter, his head bowed. “No shit I’m trying to change the subject. You haven’t been yourself since we got home. I think we have three conversations a day, if I’m lucky.” Finally, he picked his head up. Tears were shining in his eyes and Jack’s heart broke. “And I’m trying to be patient with you. I know you just went through a terrible thing. I don’t expect you to be okay. But you _picking_ and _choosing_ what you apologize for-” he shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it. You’ll get better eventually, and that… that’s all I can ask for. Is for things to be okay eventually.” He sounded resigned, and more defeated than Jack had ever heard him. This, from the boy that radiated sunshine like it cost him nothing.

Bitty, who had been staring straight ahead of him, finally looked at Jack. Jack wasn’t sure what to say, he felt sick to his stomach because Bitty was right, he hadn’t been there like he should have been and, “I’m sorry,” he whispered because if he spoke louder, his voice would break. “I’ll do better.” Jack paused as he locked eyes with Bitty, trying to make sure Bitty knew his words weren’t empty. “I swear.” 

Bitty didn’t answer. He just nodded a little, finally pushing off the counter. He wiped roughly at his eyes. “What do you want for dinner?”

_/_/_/

Jack’s physical therapy was going well. Every day he was getting stronger and stronger, and a week later they allowed him onto the ice for limited practice. It felt amazing. He probably pushed himself a little harder than he was supposed to, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. After nearly a month off the ice, he was skating again. There were a few things on his mind, stopping Jack from getting completely lost in the familiar feelings of the ice, and the biggest was the one and only Kent _fucking_ Parson.

He was exactly the same as when they played together in the Q. A cocky, arrogant, pain in Jack’s ass. Jack knew it was all an act but it was hard for him to work past that, not with all their history. Kent really wasn’t _that_ bad when he thought about it, but he certainly could have been better. The first time Jack took the ice with Kent, things weren’t that awful at first. They were a fantastic pair on the ice, barely needing to communicate to pass. Their apparent telepathy should have been good, it should have meant they wouldn’t need to talk to each other, but they still ended up fighting. Constantly. 

There wasn’t even a purpose to the fighting. It was just pointless insults back and forth that made the rest of the team look on in uncomfortable silence unless they were needed to complete a play. 

“You were slow on that pass.” Jack would say. 

“You skate like my grandmother.” Kent would shoot back. “And we both know where she is.” 

“I got hit by a bus.”

“Maybe you shouldn't be playing then.” 

And then they would dive into an intense and angry back and forth. Kent never started it, it was always Jack, but that didn’t mean he didn’t give as good as he got. 

Maybe Kent should have kept his mouth shut, it probably would have been better for the both of them if he did, but there was something about Jack Zimmermann that made sure he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Jack made him an ugly person. 

Despite the dumpster fire that was their first practice, the team did go out to dinner. Though, dinner was a generous description. It was less dinner and more drinks with a few appetizers split between them all, with Jack covering the tab. It, unlike practice, was going well. 

Everyone ordered a beer and settled into comfortable conversation. The people the Falcs picked up seemed to be good guys, and Jack liked them enough. Jack didn’t really participate in the conversation too much, finding himself to be exhausted from the practice, but he did listen and talk on occasion. 

“You two were in the Q together, yeah?” Someone said. Jack was on his second beer. 

“Yeah.” Kent was on his third but his tolerance was much higher than Jack’s was. 

Jack nodded a little bit, “We did.” He took a long drag of his beer. It felt good, he noted, to be a little more detached from himself. At the very least he wasn’t thinking as much. He caught himself wondering why he didn’t do this more often. 

“What was that like? You two are great on the ice.” It was the youngest kid on the team, a rookie who’s name escaped Jack just then. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol that was causing his lapse in memory or just his own indifference.

“It was hockey,” Jack said at the same time Kent said, “We made a good team.” 

They glanced at each other and Kent took another sip of his beer. This would be Kent’s last one, “We were kids, it’s ancient history.” 

“Ten years is a long time,” Jack said into his bottle. It was, but it still didn’t seem like enough time to heal their wounds and make the hurt go away. 

“Did you know that Jack was ga-” Someone else started and Jack felt the table shake with Marty’s sudden movement. He had kicked this new guy in the shin, and the rookie winced, “Ow! What the fuck?"

“Some things are better left unasked,” Marty said, giving the kid a look. If looks could kill, he’d be dead on the floor. 

Jack’s shoulders were tense. Getting up for another drink would make him look guilty; like he was trying to hide something. Maybe, just a little bit, he was, but he just wanted another drink. The pleasant buzz had worn off, leaving an uncomfortable pit in its wake. 

Marty took control of the situation, steering the conversation into better territory. Jack zoned out, slipping out of the booth to get another drink. He could feel the team’s eyes on him as he did, in his years on the team he’d never had more than a beer at a time, too worried it would get out of control. Tonight though, he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

The bartender set a bottle in front of him, nodding gratefully, he picked his way carefully back to the booth. Or, well, he thought he was being careful. To everyone else, it looked like stumbling before making it back to the table where he all but collapsed. Kent was staring openly, but more with concern than anything else. 

“What?” Jack asked with a frown, looking around the table. Having only ever had one beer at a time since he was eighteen, three really was quite a lot, and it was starting to get to him. Jack was no longer in the ‘fun drunk’ stage, he’d moved right on to ‘annoyingly drunk’. 

«Maybe you should get home, kid,» Marty said. «You’ve had too much drink.» 

«I’ve only had three,» Jack argued. «I’m fine.»

«You aren’t,» Kent said. Only the three of them could speak in French, and Jack had forgotten Kent could. Marty hadn’t known and looked surprised. 

«Your French is better,» Jack commented.

«Don’t change the subject,» Parse warned. «Marty’s right, you need to get home.»

Jack scowled. He didn’t want to go home, he wanted to stay out and not feel for three fucking seconds but Kent wouldn’t let him. “You’re not my parent.» 

Marty frowned, «Stop fighting.» He looked between the two of them. «Jack, I”m taking you home. We have a game soon and you have to be ready,» His tone left zero room for argument. «You got it?» 

Jack brought the bottle to his lips and took a few long drags of what was left before setting it down on the table harder than he meant to. “Fuck you both,” he frowned but stood. 

The team startled at the sudden switch to English. Marty got up. “That’s enough,” he said firmly, grabbing Jack’s bicep. “Let’s go.” 

Jack didn’t put up a fight as he was dragged out, in fact, he went easily, but, the whole way towards the door, he glared at Kent. The table was silent, the mood effectively killed by Jack’s sudden outburst. 

On the way to his apartment, Jack didn’t speak but he did play with the window buttons in Marty’s car, Marty letting him. He had kids, and Jack certainly was acting like a child. 

Soon, they were back to Jack’s home. Bitty was in the living room, curled up in one of Jack’s hoodies with Señor Bun while rewatching ‘The Great British Bake Off’ for the hundredth time. He was waiting for Jack to get home, well aware that he would be tired, and probably a little cranky. Jack was a true introvert, and dinner, after a hard day of practice, was the icing on the cake. 

He wasn’t, however, expecting Jack to knock. “Coming!” He called, getting up and padding to the door. It was unlike his partner to forget his keys… maybe, in a hurry to get out the door, Jack had picked up the spare key, which lacked the house key. 

Marty smiled a little sheepishly at Bitty when he opened the door. He had his hand on Jack’s bicep, and Jack was swaying just a little. He didn’t look too bad. 

“Marty?” 

“Sorry to bother you, Eric,” he frowned a little bit, “but your boy needed a lift home.” 

“Is… Jack, are you drunk?” He frowned deeply. Bitty had never seen Jack drunk, not even when they were in college. Tipsy, sure but this was a step beyond tipsy. 

«I am,» he nodded. «But I only had three beers!» 

Bitty stared blankly for a second, trying to process what was in front of him. After a moment, he pulled Jack into the house, “Thank you for bringing him home,” he said, sighing softly. “I’ll see you around, I’m sure.” 

Marty nodded a little bit, turning and leaving. Bitty watched him for a second before closing the door. He looked at Jack, who was leaning against the entryway wall, “We need to get you to bed,” he started leading Jack to the bedroom. 

Jack pouted. «No, I don’t want to,» he argued. «Bitty, I feel good for the first time in weeks.» Bitty was struggling to understand what Jack was saying, which was probably for the best. 

“I don’t know what you're saying.” Bitty pulled Jack to the bedroom, being insistent. Eventually, Jack went with him, though he didn’t want to. Bitty wanted to ask about his day, about practice with Kent but there was no point, and for some reason, that really hurt. This whole situation was ass. Soon, Tater would be moving in and their limited time together would be cut even more. 

«I can do this for myself,» Jack argued. «I’m not _t_ _hat_ drunk.» 

“I can’t understand a word you’re saying, Jack,” Bitty said with a frown. “That’s not true. I can understand some words, just not a lot.” He was still leading Jack to their bedroom, “Please, let’s just go to bed.” 

«Bed, yes, a good idea.» Jack nodded a little. Sitting heavily on the bed, he started pulling off his shirt and then his pants. It was sloppy, and he kept almost falling over. Bitty watched for a moment, just to make sure he was going to be okay before moving to the bathroom to get a glass of water and ibuprofen ready for the morning. 

For some reason, right before leaving the bedroom, Bitty paused to look at himself in the mirror, _really_ look. It had been a while since he’d done that. He pulled at the skin below his eye a bit; he had bags like nobody’s business, and he was much paler than he usually was. If his Mama could see him she would be so full of worry, and he couldn’t blame her. He looked like the walking dead… and he wasn’t even the one who’d gotten hurt.

He took a slow breath, he imagined that from here it would only get worse. Tater was moving in _tomorrow_. Oh, Lord, what was wrong with him? He shut his eyes for a few moments before slipping back into the bedroom. Jack was already in bed, cuddled under the covers, and snoring loudly. If this had been any other time, under any circumstances but this, Bitty would have found this whole situation funny. The SMH team would have gotten videos of Jack’s drunk French babbling. They would have liked it. Now, however, he was just sick to his stomach with worry. 

After setting the water and ibuprofen on Jack’s nightstand, Bitty climbed into bed, but instead of laying down, he sat with his back pressed against their headboard. It was dark in their room, but even so, he had his eyes trained on the ceiling. There was a tiny sliver of light making its way through the curtains, and Bitty stared, transfixed. 

Bitty didn’t spend all of his time alone. In fact, he often met their friends for lunch or tried to go to exercise classes. A long time ago, he’d promised himself that he would never sit at home and become Jack’s trophy husband. He loved Jack more than anything but Bitty was worth more than that. He wanted to work. By now, he was pretty recognizable, having poured a lot of time and effort into his blog and cookbooks. It was something that made him happy, and Jack had been so supportive. Jack was a good man. 

Despite all of this, Bitty felt so desperately, overwhelmingly, _alone_. 

Without warning, the tiny sliver of light flickered and went out. Bitty sighed, and slowly sank under the covers to fall into a fitful sleep that would really bring him no rest. He just wanted a good night's sleep, that’s all. He wondered briefly before sleep overtook him how long this all would last. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing too heavy in this chapter other than Jack getting drunk! I know some people were worried about the state of Bitty and Jack's relationship. Fear not! They stay together, I promise! 
> 
> That being said! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you for reading!!


	5. It's Fine. Probably.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack feels guilty, Tater comes home and Bob gets worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really pretty fluffy... I figured y'all needed a break before things got really bad. They only thing to mention is the talk about Tater's injuries, but they don't go into detail.

When Jack woke up in the morning he was immediately met with a headache despite not even opening his eyes yet. The light coming in through the window was hitting him square in the face and it was horribly uncomfortable. He groaned, pulling a pillow over his head to block out the sun. 

From beside him, Bitty’s voice filtered through the pillow. “Good morning, sweetpea. You’ve got water and ibuprofen on the nightstand.” He leaned over, kissing Jack’s shoulder. “You’re probably hungry. Since you’ve never been able to enjoy a Haus Hangover Breakfast, I’m going to make it for you this morning.” 

“It’s almost definitely not in my meal plan,” he grumbled, not moving at all, “but it sounds good.” 

He could hear the smile in Bitty’s voice when his partner spoke. “It’s still pretty early, you don’t have to be in for a while yet.” 

Jack turned his face away from his window so that he could look at Bitty. He was glad that he did. The light was golden, lighting Bitty’s skin and making him look like an angel; his hair caught the light, turning it into a luminescent gold. It looked like a halo. The first thought to cross Jack’s mind was ‘I can see your halo’, and he couldn't help the smile that spread across his lips. He reached out to put his hand on Bitty’s thigh, gently running his thumb along the skin there. “I don’t want to,” he whispered. 

Bitty looked a little taken aback by the touch. Aside from hugs, light kisses, and cuddling at night, Jack hadn’t touched him in a month. Breathe caught in his throat, he hesitantly, like he was afraid to scare Jack away, set his hand on top of Jack’s, “Why’s that, honey?” 

He looked away for a second, “Euh, last night.” 

“Yes, last night.” Bitty used his other hand to card his fingers through Jack’s hair where he was still hidden under the pillow. He hoped it was comforting. This was the most they had talked in a while, and he’d give anything to make sure the moment wasn’t ruined.

“I was stupid. I said some things to Marty and-” Jack pressed into Bitty’s fingers where they were tangled in his hair, “And Kent. I’ve never been drunk in front of anyone… uh, recently,” he added hesitantly. “God, Bits, I think the last time I was drunk was the night that I-” He cut himself off, keeping his eyes on the wall across the bedroom. As beautiful as Bitty was right then, he couldn't bring himself to look at him; he didn’t want Bitty to see his shame. “I was so stupid. I’m supposed to be the captain. If I had done this in front of the guys before that’s one thing but I don’t know this team.” 

Bitty leaned down, pressing a kiss to Jack’s temple. “I don’t fully get what you’re going through but I’m sorry that you feel this way,” he whispered. “You should talk to Marty before you go in today, clear some things up maybe?” He suggested. 

Jack nodded thoughtfully. “I will, thank you for listening,” he whispered. 

“Of course,” he hesitated. This was his chance. Jack was being open with him, he didn’t want to push but… 

“How are things otherwise?” Bitty asked softly. “How was your first practice?”

Jack closed his eyes now. “It was… good. I’m glad that I’m back on the ice but it’s different, eh? I miss the team… I miss _my team_ ,” he looked up at Bitty hesitantly. “Thinking about going out there without them sometimes…” He squeezed Bitty’s thigh gently, to ground him. Jack had never moved his hand, and neither had Bitty, and the touch was comforting, “I think the only real way to describe it is mourning.” 

Bitty’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t thought about it like that before, what this was really doing to Jack’s mind, what it would be like to lose so much all at once, even if they hadn’t died. “I’m so sorry, Jack,” he whispered. “I-” He couldn’t even begin to comprehend the turmoil Jack was dealing with daily. “I’m so sorry. I’m here to listen whenever you need me to.” 

Slowly, Jack pushed himself up so that he was sitting. Once sitting cross-legged beside his partner, he pressed a kiss to Bitty’s cheek. “Thank you, Bits,” he whispered. “You do so much for me.” 

Bitty cupped Jack’s cheek, running his finger softly over his cheekbone, the lightest touch. “I love you,” he said simply, as both a statement and an explanation. “In sickness and in health.” 

“I love you too,” he whispered. He pecked Bitty’s lips before rolling over to take the ibuprofen, “When did you get this?” 

“Last night,” he smiled gently. For another moment, he watched Jack before sliding off the bed. “I’m going to go make breakfast now,” he kissed the top of Jack’s head and disappeared to the kitchen. 

Their breakfast was spent talking about Tater, who would finally be coming home. He was going to stay in their guest room, which, thankfully had its own en suite, something that had seemed so frivolous when they’d moved in, but now, Bitty was thanking his lucky stars. It would make moving Tater a lot easier. 

Though the conversation was about something so heavy, Bitty was feeling better than he had in weeks. He and Jack were _talking;_ about emotions and hard topics. When it was time for Jack to go, he grabbed his keys, his hand shaking ever so slightly. 

Bitty put his hand over Jack’s for a moment. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered. “Call me if you need me to pick you up.” 

Jack gave him a gentle smile, pressing a kiss to his lips that actually lingered. Bitty wanted to press into it, wanted to grab fistfuls of Jack’s shirt and tug him close against him, never let him go. Instead, he smiled a little bit into the kiss. “I love you,” he stepped back, “I love you so much. When you get back Tater’ll be here, so be prepared for that.” 

“I love you too.” He kissed the top of his head. “See you when I get home.” He grabbed his keys then darted out the door. Bitty smiled at him as he left, and for the first time in a very long time, he felt like things were going to be okay. 

_X_ _X_

At noon, Bitty went to the hospital to get Tater. He was going to sit down with him and the doctors to go over what would be needed for the next few months until he was able to get out of the cast and go through rehab. Even after the cast came off Tater would need another surgery, maybe a few more. Jack’s physical therapy would be quick, only two or three weeks but Tater’s would take months at best, years at worst, and he’d have to practically relearn how to walk. It was going to be a long and arduous process, but if anyone could do it, Tater could. 

Tater beamed at Bitty when he walked into the hospital room. He was sitting up, and in the corner, there was a wheelchair waiting for him “Little B!” He shouted. “Is good to see you, always so good. But better now.” 

Bitty smiled, giving Tater a hug. “It’s good to see you too,” he sat on the chair. “We just wait for the doctor now?” 

“Should be here soon. They sick of me here,” he laughed. 

“Really? I don’t believe that for a second. I bet you’re their favorite stop of the day.” 

Just as Tater was about to open his mouth to respond, a doctor came sweeping in. “Hello! You must be Eric,” she grinned at him. “Nice to meet you; Alexei talks about you often.” 

“I tell her to call me Tater, she refuse,” Tater shook his head. “Is hard nut to crack, she is.” 

“Hm, well,” she smiled softly before grabbing Tater’s chart. “As you know he’s being released today and-” She went over everything, things to keep an eye out for, what to do in case of an emergency. Just the general things Bitty would have to do to keep Tater healthy, including a diet she recommended. There were so many pamphlets and papers. It was overwhelming, but Bitty just rolled with it, making sure he didn’t let Tater see how much this was stressing him out. He knew Tater felt guilty for all of this, for having to stay with Jack and Bitty in the first place. When she finally said he was ready to go, she helped get Tater in the wheelchair, explaining how to do it to Bitty as she did. Bend with the knees, don’t pull on his arms (one of which, was still in a cast), set him down as gently as possible. 

Tater grimaced. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, but he was still in a great deal of pain. The doctor smiled a little at him. “Don’t miss me too much,” she teased. 

“Ha! Would not dream of it, will not miss you at all.” He grinned at her, though Bitty could tell he was in pain.

“Good. Don’t let me see you back here,” 

“Would _never,_ ” he shook his head. “Well, will be back for therapy. Maybe I come see you then.” 

She was on her way out now. “Maybe you will,” she winked before heading out of the room. 

Once she was gone, Bitty started laughing uncontrollably, “Tater! You have the hots for your doctor!” 

“What? No! I have no such thing.” Tater crossed his arms, and with one, started gesturing towards the door. “Take me home, am not discussing this.” 

Bitty stood behind him and started wheeling him to the front where they’d have to sign the paperwork, still softly chuckling. It was nice to have something lighthearted to laugh at, nothing that was a choking, bittersweet joke. Once that was all taken care of, they were on their way. Getting him in and out of the car was harder than Bitty had imagined it would be, but he guessed over the next few months, it would get easier. God, it would be months of this. None of the doctors or specialists Tater had seen had been able to tell him a definite timeline, and some even projected a year of healing and bed rest. Bitty tried not to think about that for long. It was the worst-case scenario. 

“B, I can not thank you enough for-” Tater started, but Bitty cut him off, “Don’t start with that, Tater. You’re one of our best friends, we’d do anything for you, and I mean that.” 

Tater went quiet, nodding a little bit. “Thank you,” he said anyway, looking over at Bitty while the other drove. He didn’t look as tense as Jack often did when he was in cars, or thinking about being in a car or- _oh_ maybe Jack had PTSD. Bitty should convince him to call his therapist. 

“You seem to be doing okay,” he said lightly. 

“Yes, isn’t so bad. Don’t think I could be in bus but car is okay.” He glanced out of the window. Bitty went quiet after that, letting Tater relax as much as he could. He did look uncomfortable, but because of physical pain, not emotional. They were quiet until they got back to the house. Again, he struggled with getting Tater out of the car, and a few times Tater hissed in pain. Bitty tried to hide his tears of guilt from him, and it was pretty easy since he had to push him to the elevator. Tater couldn’t see the tears if Bitty was behind him. Bitty roughly wiped his eyes and resigned himself to the fact that these feelings would be a constant in his life. 

The moment they pushed into the apartment, Tater frowned. “Is not the same,” he said almost immediately, his head swiveling to look around. “Is not so full of life as it once was.” 

Bitty’s breath stuttered as it left him. Tater was right, of course, but he had been studiously ignoring that fact for three weeks now. It was spotless, Bitty had been cleaning every day, over-cleaning, actually, and everything was the same as it had been before the accident but now all the life was drained from it. The whole apartment just seemed… gray. 

“Well,” Bitty sighed, “you know. Do you want to go to your room, or stay on the couch for now?” 

“Couch, I will put my leg up as I am told,” he said with a nod. Bitty wheeled Tater over to the couch where he got him settled, laying on his back with his leg propped up by a bunch of pillows. Bitty sat on the coffee table, which, on any other occasion, he would’ve been horrified at but there was no space left on the couch without having to shift Tater, and that was not going to happen. 

“Call me if you need anything,” he gave him a gentle smile. “You okay?” 

“Do not need to ask me all the time. Will tell you if not okay.” It was a promise, and Bitty really hoped that he would. He already had one tough hockey lug that wasn’t talking to him about their pain, he didn’t need another. 

There were a few beats of silence, where Bitty was gearing himself up to leave and head to the kitchen but, before he was able to, Tater opened his mouth, “Are you okay?” 

For some reason, the question hit Bitty like a bucket of cold water. _Was he okay?_ The short answer, of course, was no. No, he wasn’t okay. Most days he couldn't catch his breath, or do anything without getting so utterly overwhelmed with everything that was going on. Jack, while things seemed to be getting better, wasn’t himself. Jack’s hurt hurt Bitty; it was never easy to see someone so dear to him hurt so deeply. Most days Bitty just put on a brave face, told himself everything would work out, and then take care of Jack in the only ways that his fiance was allowing him. 

It was exhausting, it was draining. _It wasn’t okay._

“Of course I am.” He forced a smile on his face, one that he hoped looked as genuine as it certainly didn’t feel. Tater looked skeptical, but before he was able to ask any more questions, Bitty stood up quickly. “Let me make you a pie!”

_/_/_/

It’d been nearly a month since the accident. Bob and Alicia hadn’t visited since it had first happened, and they didn’t have any plans to. Especially now that Tater had moved in with them. Alicia was worried about being too smothering, which didn’t make a lot of sense to Bob. He wanted to _help,_ and being hours away in Montreal was certainly not helping. He grunted, fingers drumming over the desk in his office. Well, _technically_ , it was Alicia’s office, ex-hockey players didn’t need offices, but she was in California for work, leaving Bob alone. And unsupervised. A terrible idea on her part, really. 

It was Alicia that had been keeping Bob in line since this shit show had started, and with her gone? Anything was fair game. He leaned back in her fancy chair (it really was quite nice, made out of leather with back support because they were getting old, a thought that made him cringe. Christ, Jack was twenty-eight), spinning in slow circles, trying to come up with ways he could meddle from Canada. 

Nothing was coming to mind, however, which was disappointing. Alicia was the brains of their operation and left to his own devices, Bob was particularly useless. He grumbled quietly to himself, about to give up his spinning and brainstorming when his phone dinged out a notification. It was a tweet. A tweet from Bitty! Bob, who had followed Bitty sometime in Jack’s senior year, had turned on notifications the second Jack had told them he was in a relationship. Most of the time he’d just wait to check it out, not wanting to seem like the ‘creepy, overbearing father-in-law’ but since he’d just been thinking about Bitty, it seemed like some sort of cosmic coincidence, so he looked at it. 

_‘The kitchen is a whole 10 ft away. Which is a lot when you’re comfy on the couch and craving baked goods. Someone come bake for me’_

Oh. That wasn’t good. That was actually very, very bad. Bitty not wanting to bake? Bob needed to do something, and he needed to do it right away. When had things gotten so bad? Why hadn’t he tried to keep in touch more? Leaning back once more in his chair, he tried to think of things he could do. 

All of a sudden it hit him. He could bake! He could bake the worst pie in existence and then send a picture to Bitty, act all sad and desperate, and Bitty would have to help him! It was an excellent idea, truly foolproof if he did say so himself. 

So it was that Bad Bob Zimmermann found himself in his kitchen, fucking up a pie. He mismeasured everything, didn’t cool the crust in the fridge before he rolled it out, and even burned the filling before it even went into the oven, which he’d set about fifty degrees too cold. It was a proper disaster if he’d ever seen one, and there was no doubt in his mind that it would convince Bitty to get up and help Bob’s sorry ass. 

He was quite proud of himself. 

Once it was out of the oven, Bob took a picture of it to send to Bitty. He made sure that he got it in its best light, so the disaster that it was really came across. He sent the picture, along with, _‘I have no idea what I did wrong but I think this is the worst pie I’ve ever seen in my life’_ and sent it to his son-in-law. Well, not son-in-law yet, but soon. Hopefully. 

Not even three minutes later, Bitty responded with a string of emojis that made absolutely zero sense to Bob. But, he waited another minute for the translation to come through. ‘ _what on earth did you do to that pie????’_

Bob smirked, great. Bitty was taking the bait. That was very, very good, ‘ _Not a clue! I’m bored here without Alicia and wanted to try something new.’_ He waited a few minutes before following it up with, ‘ _I don’t suppose you could help?’_

Bob didn’t hear back for quite some time, and he worried for a moment that he had pushed too far, but about fifteen minutes later, he was getting a call from Bitty. A facetime, actually. In spite of himself, he grinned but made sure to reign it in before answering, “My favorite son!” 

Bitty smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Bob had been worried before but seeing Bitty in front of him, clearly exhausted, made his anxiety skyrocket. Something was so terribly wrong. 

“Hey, Bob.” Bitty leaned against the counter. He was pale, with huge bags under his eyes. Bob, for a moment, felt sick to his stomach… How was Jack doing if Bitty was like this? “You seemed desperate for some pie help.” 

“I am! You saw my pie! I murdered the poor thing.” To make sure Bitty knew that he had botched the pie beyond repair, Bob brought the phone over to the pie, “Look!” 

“You really did a number on it. Hm, well, we might as well start right from the beginning. I got all my stuff out so I can walk you through it-” 

Bitty, whose back was turned to Bob, missed the older man’s grin. His plan was working perfectly. The pie crust was easy, with the two of them bantering back and forth. Bob would give Jack one thing: his partners always had a pretty great sense of humor. While the crust was cooling, they worked on the filling, which, for Bitty was blueberry, and Bob was apple. 

“Why blueberry?” Bob asked, cutting the apples and putting them into a pot. 

“They’re Tater’s favorite, so we have a ton of them around the house,” Bitty mused. It took a lot less time for him to get his filling prepped, so he was waiting for Bob to be done with his apples, “He’d be in here right now if he weren’t sleeping. It’s all he does right now. But the doctors say that’ll change soon.” He was leaning against the counter again, watching as Bob continually almost cut his fingers. 

“I hope he gets better soon. It has to be such a burden on you and Jack,” Bob dumped the last of the apples into the pot. Without thinking about who he was talking to, he responded in French. 

Bitty huffed, “I can’t understand you, Bob, you know that.” Now that Bob was done, he was getting his blueberries together, and took a second to tell Bob the next few steps. 

“I thought you and Jack were practicing?” Ever the dutiful student, Bob did as he was told. He glanced at his phone for a second, only to see something flash across Bitty’s face. Sadness? Anger? What was that? Whatever it was, Bitty looked sad now, more so than when he’d started the call, and Bob wanted to kick himself. This wasn’t supposed to make Bitty feel worse, he was supposed to feel better and- Bob frowned. The only thing that had bothered Bitty this whole time was a question about Jack. Fuck. What was going on in their home? 

“Jack’s been busy,” Bitty said, putting the top crust on his pie, then putting it in the oven. He told Bob the next steps, “The new team and physical therapy and practice… he’s tired when he gets home. I understand. It’ll be back to normal soon.” The smile that found its way onto his face seemed forced in the worst way. 

This was very bad. It was way worse than Bob thought that it was, and there was nothing he could do about it. Not a damn thing. 

“I can’t speak for… this situation but there were plenty of times where I wasn’t-” Bob stopped for a moment, drumming his fingers against the countertop, trying to pick his words carefully. “There were times where I wasn’t the best husband, or father, for that matter.” As instructed, he put the pie in the oven before moving to sit down. Once again, he was reminded of his age. 

“Pressure, trauma… it explains it but it doesn't excuse it. You know that, don’t you? If Jack isn’t being good to you-” 

“No! No, Bob, it’s nothing like that. Nothing at all. It’s just… it’s been hard is all.” Bitty let out a long breath, not looking at the phone for a moment. “He just gets distant.” 

Bob nodded knowingly, “He does. He’ll come around.” He leaned back in the recliner he was in, letting out a long breath. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a nap.” 

Bitty laughed, a much softer sounding one than Bob was used to, but a laugh no less. Just that part alone made the phone call a success. 

“It’s just because you’re an old man,” Bitty teased. 

“Hey!” Bob knitted his eyebrows together in mock anger. “You take that back. I am not ‘old’. I don’t even know what that word means.” 

Bitty was smiling, Bob smiled back. 

“Right, sorry. Ah, you’re-” Bitty looked like he was thinking incredibly hard for a moment. “You’re vieux!” He grinned, pronouncing the word horribly wrong in what Bob found to be an adorable Southern Twang. And Bob, though being teased, was proud of him. 

“Fine. That word I understand.” 

Bitty opened his mouth to say something else, but the front door opened, and he turned towards it. “Jack’s home. I’ll let you say hi and then we’ll leave you to your nap.” Bitty padded to the entrance hall. Bob heard him say ‘your father’, while the phone was being passed off. Soon, Jack’s face appeared and somehow, he looked worse than Bitty. He tried to hide his frown from Jack though. 

“Allo, Papa-” The two talked for a few minutes, avoiding the topic of hockey altogether. It was an okay conversation, but Jack was obviously distracted. Bob was worried. As soon as he hung up with them he’d call Alicia and tell her that he didn’t care if they were overbearing, they needed to do more than they were. 

Jack said goodbye, then handed the phone back to Bitty, who looked drained, “I’ll talk to you later, Bob.” 

Bob nodded, “You sure you two don’t need anything?” 

“We’re okay, thank you.” Bitty was looking over the phone, at something that Bob couldn’t see, “I have to go. It was good talking to you.”

“You too, kiddo. Be safe.” He hung up, setting the phone on the arm of the chair, breathing slowly out through his nose. Well. Things were much worse than he’d originally thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone last week asked where their parents were, and man, you were right. The part with Bob was born from that comment, and I really like the way it came out. I hope you do too :)


	6. Alarm Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Falconers have their first game and roadie, Parse has a realization, the parents and Lardo take action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tag warnings at the end of the chapter!

Kent watched Marty drag Jack from the pub they were at, and a pit settled in his stomach. It wasn’t that he had spoken much to Jack in the past ten years, in fact, they’d hardly spoken at all, and when they did Kent was always aggressive, saying horrible things to Jack that no doubt left permanent marks. But don’t get it wrong, Jack had left his marks on Kent as well. Deep ones that he still carried around with him in the hopes that someday something could fix them. They were left in the Q, before and after the overdose. This night was giving him flashbacks, strong ones, that had a nervous energy lighting up under his skin. He’d seen Jack like this before, he knew where this was headed. 

He excused himself from the group, telling them that he had a phone call to make. It wasn’t a total lie, he was going to call someone, but it wasn’t preplanned like he told them. Vegas was a few hours behind Providence, but he knew that Jay wasn’t busy. He tugged his phone out, about to call, but stopped. Jay didn’t know about their past, he didn’t know what Kent had gone through with Jack. It wouldn't be fair to Jack to tell Jay what had happened. He sucked in a breath through his teeth. Maybe Bitty would be his best bet? He should tell Eric what’s happening, but then that might be overstepping?

Instead of doing any of that, he walked to his apartment. It was nice, the Falconers were a good organization and they took care of their players. He ended up texting Jay, since he had a few messages from him already. 

_'Yo_ _u had dinner tonight, right? Everything going okay?’_

Kent had told him things had gone horribly at practice. After he crossed the threshold into his home, he answered, ' _it was fine. just got back’_

It wasn’t late yet, only nine at night, but Kent was exhausted. Tired from fighting with Jack during practice, from keeping face in front of the team. He grabbed a glass of water before heading to his room to get ready for bed. A very long shower was in order. Just as he was about to set his phone down to charge while he was in the bathroom, it pinged with a notification. It was Jay, ‘ _Fine? Doesn’t sound good. Want to call?_ ’ 

When the fuck did Scraps get to know him so well? Kent wondered. He sat down on the edge of the bed, phone cradled limply in his hands. He did want to call, but he didn’t want to be a burden on Scraps, nor did he want to seem needy. But… Scraps had offered, hadn’t he? He chewed his lip, ‘ _30 min? gotta shower’_

_‘Well, if you’re going to be clean then might as well facetime. No point wasting all that effort’_

Kent’s heart did a little flip and- no. Oh no. No, no, no, he did _not_ like Scraps. He couldn't. That was- He looked down at his phone, the messages between them. They had been talking every day for two months, calling each other when they had the time. Scraps knew more about Kent than most people ever had. Fuck. Fuck. Kent liked Scraps. Scraps wasn’t gay. 

‘ _i suppose i can make that work,’_ Kent said after about three minutes of pure gay panic. He plugged his phone in to charge, this time ignoring the ping that came, instead, getting ready to shower, thinking over his recent realization. 

He ended up falling asleep on the phone call with Jay, which he was immensely embarrassed about in the morning. The first thing he did was send an apology text, ‘ _sorry about last night bro. was way more tired than i thought’_

It was still too early in Vegas to get an answer, but by the time practice finished, there’d be a response. Since, most days, the first thing Kent did in the morning was text Scraps, he often was waiting for a response. The end of practice, when he could look at his phone, was something he always looked forward to, and now he knew why. Covering his face with a pillow, he screamed into it for a couple of seconds, then got up like normal to start his day. Who needed _therapy_ with the kind of pillows his hockey money could buy? (He did. He absolutely needed it). 

Practice was ass on his emotions, but from a hockey standpoint, it was good. He and Jack, despite their near-constant fighting, were on the same page when it came to the game. Wherever they had left off during the Q, they were able to pick right back up from. That, at least, made up for the fact that they spent most of practice screaming at each other. Kent should have kept his mouth shut, he really should have, but that wasn’t his style. His style was to antagonize and annoy, and just because this was Jack, didn’t make him exempt from that. 

Things didn’t get better over the next few days, not even the game made them cool down. Though they came out on the other side with a win, it certainly was bittersweet, and more bitter than sweet. Jack looked terrible but was still forced to do a presser, and even Kent could see that that was a mistake.

XXX

Jack told George it was a bad idea to have him go out for the presser. He still wasn’t okay, far from it really. He felt like a nerve, raw and exposed, and to set him in front of a roomful of reporters who would undoubtedly ask about the accident seemed like a disaster waiting to happen. He told her this. He told her he wasn’t okay but she didn’t listen, “I’m sorry, Jack but this isn’t up to me. Marty’ll be with you, just let him take the difficult questions if you need.”

It took all of Jack’s effort to drag himself out in front of those reporters. He sat down at the table in the front of a room that was suddenly much smaller than it had ever felt before. Under the table his hands were clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms as he tried to distract himself from all the eyes that were trained on him. 

Things started exactly how he knew they would: terribly. 

“My question is for Jack,” a cute reporter with red hair asked. “What’s it like playing with Kent Parson again after ten years?” 

Jack could feel himself slip into ‘hockey robot’. It wasn’t something he’d ever paid attention to before now, but the way he sat, even the way his brain worked seemed to shift with a single question. Like someone flipped a switch. “Kent is a good player but we only just started playing again, I can’t really say.” 

“Are things uncomfortable? With your past hist-” 

“No-” Jack cut the question off before it could even begin. “We’re here to play a game and if you have questions about said game, Marty and I would love to hear them.” Maybe he was being a little harsh but he didn’t even want to be here in the first place. If they asked stupid questions they’d all be there longer. Jack just wanted to get home. 

Thankfully they seemed to sense his tension and switched gears to different topics, which Jack was glad for. They focused more on the game, asking about specific plays, about how players were getting along. Between them, Marty answered most of the questions, with Jack only taking one if it was directed at him. It fell into a relatively normal presser, and stupidly Jack got lulled into a false sense of security, even if he was starting to lose his patience. 

And then it all went to hell. 

“Jack, things seemed a little stiff out there tonight. Do you think this is because you’re still getting used to having to work together as a team? Having lost-”

“No one died. We didn’t lose anyone,” Jack’s voice was strained but he couldn’t stop himself from interrupting this question. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want people to talk about his team like they were dead. Because they hadn’t lost anyone. Just Orlando. ‘Just’. He wanted to throw up. He put his elbows on the table in front of him, head in his hands. He could no longer hear what was going on around him, instead, there was a high pitched ringing. Distantly, he was aware of someone touching him, fuck, fuck, was that a paramedic? No, he was in a presser, he wasn’t- 

«Jack? Are you with me? Are you here?» Marty’s voice. Jack’s hands were shaking against his face and it took everything in him to shake his head. Things were slipping in and out, between the bus and the presser. He reached out blindly to grab at Marty, held onto him like a lifeline. If he let go, he was afraid he would drown. 

«You’re okay,» Marty said. «You’re okay, we just have to get you to the locker room, okay?»

Jack didn’t respond but he knew he was being taken away, heard George’s stern voice announcing that the presser was over. Everything sounded like they were underwater. 

XXX

Kent was changed out of his uniform and showered, holding his phone up to his ear as he talked to Jay, about to leave when he heard an awful lot of noise coming from down the hall. Someone’s ragged breathing, another soothing voice speaking in French. It was too quiet to hear the exact words, but he was almost positive it was Marty. He must be speaking to Jack. Only a few seconds later, Jack and Marty were stumbling in.

“Jay, I gotta go. I’ll call you back soon,” he promised. 

Jack looked awful. His skin was pale and clammy, and as soon as he was sat down, he curled in on himself. Kent walked over to him slowly, like one would approach a wounded animal. 

“I’ll call Eric,” Marty said before stepping out.

“Jack?” Parse sat beside him. “Jack, can you hear me?”

Jack nodded once but didn’t move his hands away from his eyes, his whole body was shaking. Kent knew he was having a panic attack, and if this was ten years ago, he would’ve known how to calm him down. He would have pulled Jack into his arms, held him close while Jack worked through it. But things were different now; he didn’t even know if Jack dealt with panic attacks in the same he once did. 

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Jack reached over to hold his wrist tight. Touch had always grounded Jack, so he was probably just trying to keep himself ‘afloat’ as he used to say. The only problem? It’d been _years_ since they had touched without pads between them. Kent’s whole body went ramrod straight, “Jack?” 

“Red,” Jack croaked out. 

Parse’s eyebrow furrowed together, “Red? What-” 

Just then, Marty’s head poked into the room, “Bitty says ask for a color and start listing all the things in the room that are that color.” 

“Oh. Okay. Yeah, I can-” Kent nodded a little and started doing just that. He wasn’t sure if or when he should stop, so he just continued until Jack’s grip on his wrist loosened and eventually fell away. Slowly, the man next to him straightened, only to immediately lean back against the cubby, his head pointed towards the ceiling. “Thanks,” he whispered. 

“Don’t mention it.” Kent jumped up, skin alight with… he didn’t even know. The touch was startling but it wasn’t anything more than a touch. It was just off-putting. Maybe it was his own anxieties simmering just under the surface that were making him feel like a livewire. He knew it wasn’t attraction, not anymore. That was good to know at least. 

Marty had walked in and sat down a while ago, but was quiet while Parse and Jack talked. Now that Jack seemed to have calmed down, he stood. “Let’s get you home, kid,” he said as gently as he could. 

Jack frowned deeply, “You brought me home the other day.” 

“Who else is going to do it?” Marty argued. Parse moved to grab his bag, slinging it over his shoulder, “I’m going to head out.” It was late and he still had to call Scraps to talk to him about the game. He pulled his phone from his pocket, gave Marty what he hoped was a supporting wave, and left. 

He felt bad leaving Marty to deal with Jack but he doubted anyone in the Bittle-Zimmermann household would want him to show up at their doorstep, even if he had changed. He _had_ changed, right? He tried to ignore the nagging question in the back of his mind and instead called Scraps back. He’d help Parse keep his head on straight. Or well, not straight. He cursed his stupid brain and then dialed the number. He found that he didn’t hate talking on the phone as much as he used to as long as the person he was talking to was Jay. 

Their conversation lasted for hours, but at least this time Kent didn't fall asleep on the line. He said goodnight before hanging up and getting ready for bed. 

XXX

If Bitty had thought that their heart to heart the morning after Jack got drunk would change anything, he would have been wrong. He and Tater watched the game together from Tater’s bed. Bitty had told him that by the time the game ended he would be too tired to drag his sorry ass back to the bedroom, and thus they had no choice but to watch it from under the covers. Tater liked to be cuddled, and luckily for him, Bitty liked cuddling. He supposed, lucky for everyone, Jack wasn’t the jealous type. 

He wasn’t the jealous type when it came to Bitty cuddling large Russian hockey players anyway. 

They watched the presser. He watched Jack lose it on national television and he knew the press tomorrow would be bad. Speculation rampant. Having been lost in a different world, one where people talked and said horrible things about Jack, he missed most of what Tater said, “B should go get some sleep,” he pushed. 

“No, I need to wait for Jack,” he slid out of the bed. “You need sleep. You’re already up later than you should be.” 

Tater groaned, “Sleeping is hard, you know this.” 

“I do, yes, but you still need it.” They had already gone through the steps to get Tater ready for bed. “Call if you need anything, okay?” 

“Yes, mother,” Tater grinned at him before awkwardly waving. Bitty snorted, and as he left, shut off the lights. He hoped that sometime soon Tater would be able to get up and do things on his own. Not even because Bitty was tired of doing it for him, but because it was so upsetting to see Tater like that. He just wanted things to be better. They’d find out how things were going at his next doctor's appointment, which was in a few days, but it didn’t stop his heart from aching. 

Marty, once again, dropped Jack off at their house. Bitty had a cup of tea ready for him, and as soon as Jack was past the threshold, he was pressing the mug into his hands. He thanked Marty over and over again, making a mental note to bake him a batch of his favorite cookies. 

Jack didn’t thank Bitty for the tea, instead just setting the mug on the counter and shuffled to the bedroom. Hunched over by their closet, he undressed, leaving his clothes on a pile before all but collapsing into their bed. 

Bitty stood in the doorway, watching Jack as he moved around. Things were silent. Tense. Needing to occupy himself, he cleaned the kitchen. Again. When he was done, he climbed into bed with Jack. “You awake, sweetpea?” He whispered. He was met with silence, so Bitty curled in on himself and tried to find sleep. 

XXX

Bob and Alicia made sure to text Jack and Bitty every day, even though they were still worried about being overbearing. That caution didn’t last very long, however, because nearly a week later, live on national television, Jack had a panic attack. No matter how bad things had gotten: in the Q, before and after the overdose, even at Samwell when he was in the midst of a bad episode, never, not once, had he let the media see. Jack always tried his hardest to keep it together in front of the cameras. This wasn’t just a red flag, it was an entire banner. 

Feeling helpless, Bob and Alicia watched Jack from afar, unable to do anything. For both of them, it reminded them too much of the overdose. They hadn’t been able to fathom what Jack would’ve done back then. Sure, looking back the signs were there, but nothing had explicitly pointed to the overdose. Jack had hidden things pretty well. But now that they knew what they were looking for, those signs and unspoken words, they were terrified out of their minds. They refused to go through almost losing their son _again._

They needed to do something, even if they weren’t going to go visit (which they wanted to, desperately); they needed to do _anything_ , to show they were still there. 

“We need to talk to the Bittles,” Bob said firmly. Alicia, eyes still glued to the tv that had long since blackened, nodded her agreement. It was too late to text right away, but Bob put a reminder in his phone to do it in the morning. It wasn’t likely he’d forget something so important, but it was always better to take all proper precautions. 

**Parents Squared**

**Light of My Life**

There is a matter of extreme importance pertaining to our sons that we must discuss (9:01)

**Suzanne**

Are you talking about what happened last night? I have never seen Jack like that. Is he okay? (9:02)

**You**

He isn’t! I’m worried about our boys **:pleading_face:** , have either of you spoken to them much? (9:02)

**Suzanne**

We have not! I have been so worried about them. Dicky has not been calling me nearly as often. (9:03)

**Light of My Life**

Same with Jack, and last night was just the icing on the cake (9:03)

**You**

I spoke with Eric the other day, he helped me bake a pie **:pie_emoji:**. I knew things were bad but I didn’t know how bad until then. We need to do something. (9:05)

**You**

Besides all of us just showing up in Providence randomly. (9:05)

**Suzanne**

Maybe care packages? (9:06)

**You**

Oh that’ll work perfectly! You’re a genius, Suzanne (9:06)

**Richard**

Back off my wife there Zimmermann (9:06)

**Richard**

He’s right Peaches. You are. (9:07)

**Suzanne**

You make me blush (9:07)

**Light of My Life**

They’ll get suspicious if we send them at the same time (9:08)

**You**

Do we care about that? We’ve been trying to keep our distance since the accident and it’s not helping. (9:09)

**Suzanne**

They can suspect all they want. I am worried about my boys and I will do whatever I can to help. (9:10)

**You**

We should talk to Tater, see if there’s anything he can tell us (9:10)

**Light of My Life**

Using an inside man. Sneaky! I like it (9:11)

**You**

;) (9:11)

**You**

I’ll make a separate group chat with him in it, one sec (9:11)

**Suzanne, Light of My Life, Richard, Tater, and You**

**You**

I bet you’re wondering why I’ve gathered you here today **:pensive:** (9:17)

**Light of My Life**

You think you’re so funny (9:17)

**You**

I don’t just think it, I know it. (9:17)

**Tater**

am in gc with jacks parents! is honr! (9:18)

**You**

Bitty’s parents too. We need you to spy on our sons for us (9:19)

**Tater**

bs parents! hello! (9:20)

**Tater**

am surprised you waited this long b already thinks I do this (9:20)

**Suzanne**

Hello, Tater. I am sorry to hear about your leg :( (9:21)

**Tater**

is ok is getting better. b is very good at caring for me (9:23)

**Suzanne**

What about caring for himself? (9:24)

**Tater**

is very bad no good at all. has not stopped for a moment since accidnet (9:25)

**You**

That’s what we were worried about. And Jack? (9:26)

**Tater**

is worse (9:32)

**Light of My Life**

What does that mean? (9:34)

**Tater**

jack not caring for himself at all very worried (9:38)

**Tater**

is not just hard on him is hard on b too (9:38)

**Tater**

even more quiet (9:39)

**Tater**

b only talk to me lately (9:40) 

**Light of My Life**

_You don’t think that he’ll do anything again, do you?_ (9:41) 

I didn’t before now. Do you think we should go to Providence? (9:43)

 _Why don’t we send the care packages and have Tater update us every once in a while? They’re adults afterall_ (9:44)

_As they keep reminding us (9:44)_

_I feel old Bobby. Our son’s a real adult now (9:44)_

I’m older than you are, mon ange. And you’ve aged beautifully **:heart_eyes: :heart:** (9:45)

_You sweet talker, you (9:45)_

**Suzanne, Light of My Life, Richard, Tater, and You**

**Suzanne**

Would visiting help? (9:42)

**Tater**

am not sure b very stressed no one been over (9:45)

**Tater**

suggested having team over now we all out of hospital but he did not like idea (9:45)

**Tater**

he say i only just got here can not be having guests so soon (9:46)

**Tater**

Mayeb is not good idea (9:46)

**You**

Thanks, Tater. You’ve been really helpful **:smiling_face_with_three_hearts:** We have a few ideas to help from a distance right now! Anything you think the boys would like? (9:48)

**Tater**

jack very angry this morning before leaving say he out of maple something (9:51)

**Tater**

b burn a towel with bunnies on it last night (9:52)

**Tater**

i am missing dark chocolate (9:53) 

**Tater**

b has but only for baking will not allow me to have :( is special he say (9:54) 

**Light of My Life**

I’ll be sure to send you some chocolate, Tater (9:56)

**Suzanne**

Please keep us as updated as you can, and feel better soon! (9:56)

**Richard**

**:thumbs up:** (10:00)

They each got to work immediately. Bob, having recently taken up embroidery (Alicia was gone for _five days,_ what else was he supposed to do?), started using his new skills to make them something special and unique. After brainstorming a bit, he landed on a terribly embroidery tree with ‘erb’ and ‘jlz’ in a heart in the middle of it. Alicia went out to the store, grabbing some of Jack’s favorite foods, like Tim Bits cereal and maple cream, and dark chocolate for Tater, who deserved something special for being their spy. She wasn’t sure what to get for Bitty, but she was concerned about his lack of new baking videos. She googled some fancy uber-expensive baking ingredients and ordered a handful that might be enough to motivate him to post something. One internet deep dive later and she was buying a mini torch too so Bitty could make authentic crême brulèe, with her favorite recipe printed out and attached. 

Suzanne rummaged around in their attic and grabbed a blanket that had been her Moomaw’s at one point years ago to add to the box, hoping it might comfort him. Her and Coach talked about replacing the bunny towel, a handmade one Dicky had bought at a local craft store near them, but the only way for them to know it had died would be Tater, and ratting him out before anything even began didn’t seem like the best of options. So, she stuck with what she knew. She whipped up a batch of Bitty’s favorite cookies, added a couple small things she knew Bitty couldn’t get up North, let Richard add something sports or another, and had everything overnighted. 

They all hoped that even though it wasn’t an overly large gesture, it would put a smile on their faces. And maybe it would help, even just a little bit. 

_X_X_X_

The day following Jack’s panic attack, Bitty finally made a video for his channel, though it wasn’t what he wanted it to be. He sat down at the desk in Jack’s office, pressed record and- 

“Hey, y’all!” It was flat, even to his ears. “I know it’s been a long time, so sorry for that delay. I tried to upload the videos I had already finished before all of this started but that can only take a man so far,” he scratched his neck absently. “I’m afraid this isn’t a happy video, nor is it going to be very long. Things here are still hectic. I can’t go into details, but it hasn’t been easy-” His eyes welled with tears and he stopped recording. That wasn’t good enough. He couldn’t talk about what they were going through without throwing Jack under the bus, which he definitely didn’t want to do; Jack was already going through enough. 

Well, after Jack’s panic attack the public would have an inkling of how not okay he was. He took a deep breath and tried again. 

“Hey, y’all!” This time it sounded better. “I’m so sorry I’ve been absent for the past few weeks. I’m afraid that isn’t going to change all that much, not for the foreseeable future.” Out of view of the camera, he was wringing his hands together. “Things haven’t been easy, and they’re going to be hard for a while. I’m going to try to find time to bake and record for y’all but-” he let out a slow breath, “I can’t promise anything.” He continued to talk, mentioning the accident which he was sure everyone knew about already. He did a few takes and then sat and edited it all together. He wanted to get it done and over with. 

Making this video felt like he was giving up on his dream to be something he wasn’t. But Tater needed him, and so did Jack, and he would be there to help them as best he could. Once it was ready, he posted it, turned off all his notifications, and went to join Tater in the living room. 

Things didn’t get better when Jack came home drunk. 

At least he had taken an Uber this time. 

XXX

Lardo stared at her computer screen. Oh, fuck no. For a month and a half, there was near radio silence from Bitty, and when he finally resurfaced? It was to announce his semi-permanent hiatus from YouTube. It was unacceptable. It was god damn fucking _terrifying_. 

Without thinking, she reached for her phone. Fuck texting him, that wasn’t working (and getting one-word responses was getting really old, really quick). It was time for much more drastic measures. 

The phone rang for a few moments, and Lardo was worried that Bitty wouldn’t answer, but of course he did. Even in a crisis, his Southern hospitalities wouldn’t fail. “Hello?” 

“Bits! Bitty. My dude. What the ever-living fuck was that video you just posted, hm?” Lardo thought she sounded too bright, too much, for right now. She didn’t know how to stop her voice from doing that. But Bitty needed to know this shit, so she waited him out. 

Bitty was quiet for a minute, and distantly, Lardo heard shuffling and a muffled, ‘I’ll be on the balcony’ before Bitty’s voice came through again. “I wasn’t cryptic about it. It’s a goodbye.” 

“Exactly! What the fuck!” Lardo was pacing the length of her and Shitty’s shared apartment (they’d moved out of Haus 2.0 not all that long ago, before this shit show had started anyway). On the other end of the line, Bitty sighed deeply, sounding exhausted. “I can’t do it and take care of Tater, Lardo.” 

It was obvious Bitty was feeling defeated. Lardo had been friends with him long enough to know when he was fighting through something, though this seemed like so much more than it had ever been before. There had been plenty of hard times over the last few years, like when Bitty’s cookbook stalled because the publisher wasn’t cooperating, or right after Jack and Bitty had come out and Lardo spent hours consoling Bitty after someone had linked him to a subreddit full of homophobic comments directed towards them. (Side note, fuck those assholes. She always had time to send a mental ‘fuck you’ their way). But those were all drops in a bucket compared to this. This was… Lardo didn’t even know where to start. 

She did know that Bitty couldn’t give up on what he loved. That would be disastrous. 

“Sure you can! I can come over sometime to help, and I’m sure he doesn’t need ‘round the clock care. He’s a grown-ass adult, Bits. Just like you, being your age and all.” 

Again, she was met with a long moment of silence. She thought Bitty had hung up until he abruptly broke the silence “It’s not- it’s Jack too. I can’t take care of them both and record and edit and bake and- it’s too much, Lardo. I can’t do it,” his voice cracked. 

Lardo stopped dead in her tracks, back straightening. Obviously, she knew Jack wasn’t doing the best, the presser had been evidence enough of that. But still, “Jack’s that bad?” 

Bitty didn’t answer with anything more than a grunt. 

“Oh.” Lardo sat down on their couch (green, and similar to the one at the Haus, but this one was clean) with a soft huff. “You needa break? We can get drunk and talk about our problems.” 

“No alcohol. And even so... I can’t. I can’t leave Tater for very long, he can’t drink on his meds anyway, and Jack doesn’t know how to care for him.” 

“You sound like you’re taking care of a baby, but the baby is Tater and Jack’s the husband who refuses to change a diaper.” 

“That’s not fair.” Lardo could hear the frown in Bitty’s face as he spoke. “Jack just went through a horrible thing and he’s at practice most of the time. It’s not easy to start over like this.” 

Lardo supposed that was true. However… it didn’t really seem right, did it? Tater was living with the both of them, not just with Bitty. Surely Jack could be doing something to lift the burden off of Bitty’s shoulders, even just a little, or for a few minutes. But… maybe Bitty wasn’t letting him. 

“Bits, would you even let Jack help?” 

“He’s going through enough.” 

“I see.” 

They fell quiet after that, though the crackling line let them both know that neither had hung up. Lardo would have to kidnap Bitty soon, take him out on the town. Shitty could watch Tater for a little bit. Or better yet, they could get Ransom and Holster to stop by and do it. They’d probably _thank_ Tater for allowing them to take care of him. She was about to ask something else when Bitty inhaled sharply, “Jack’s home. I need to go.”

Lardo didn’t like the sound of his voice. It wasn’t fear, it wasn’t anger, it was… resignation. And sadness. Jack’s arrival shouldn’t put that kind of emotion in one half of what she had previously considered the most compatible and cutest couple of all time. “You sure I can’t come over?” 

“Tater needs to get settled before anyone can come over, but it was good talking to you.” 

“Yeah, Bits… you too.” 

_X_X_X_

The next week saw the team gearing up for their first roadie since the accident. It was two nights and a plane ride away which did nothing for Jack’s nerves. He didn’t want to go. He had even told George a few times that he wouldn’t get onto the plane. She had tried to be comforting the first time, really, she had, but her patience quickly wore thin. Eventually, she ignored him entirely, knowing that he was probably just looking for permission to get out of going, and she wouldn’t give it to him. 

When he finally boarded, after a few long moments of standing on the tarmac, he stood at the front of the plane, staring at his new teammates. He and Tater always sat together but Tater wasn’t there. Tater was at home with Bitty, and he was here on a plane that could just crash and- he gripped the back of a seat, white-knuckling it. He had taken his medication before this flight, knowing that it would be rough. But this was bad, this was much worse than he thought it was going to be. Maybe he should take more...

Snowy put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Come sit with me,” he said gently. “You want the inside or the outside?” 

Jack didn’t know. He usually sat on the outside, but Tater had been sitting on the outside when they got in the accident, so both options seemed bad to him. “I-” He shook his head weakly. Snowy seemed to get what Jack was trying to say and moved into the inside seat, leaving Jack with no option but to take the outside. It still took a moment for Jack to sit down. 

“I won’t be good company,” he whispered into his knees, not moving his head and keeping his eyes downcast. 

“You usually aren’t,” Snowy teased, lightly bumping Jack’s knee with his own. “It’s not a long flight. We’ll land before you know it.” 

Jack was infinitely grateful for Snowy. The whole flight Snowy was there to help keep him calm in his own way, which was gentle touches to the shoulder and forearm squeezes. It helped Jack in ways he couldn’t quite express. 

They ended up winning one and losing two. Jack should’ve done better, he wasn’t being _enough._ But he wasn’t able to dwell on his failures for as long as he’d’ve liked because almost as soon as the last game ended, they were flying back to Providence. This time, before Jack boarded the plane, he had a few drinks. It allowed him to zone out and relax much more effectively than on the way there. 

XXX

Kent watched him, frowning a little. Jack seemed to be getting worse and worse, so he made up his mind then and there that as soon as the plane touched down he’d message Eric; he deserved to know what was really going on. He did feel a little guilty, a little like he was intruding on things he shouldn’t be, but he had known Jack once. He wanted to protect him in some weird way. 

As he promised himself, he texted Eric as soon as the plane landed (after sending a text to Scraps to let him know that they’d made it back to Providence safely). He agonized over the text for a while, staring at the flashing cursor before typing: _It’s not my business but Jack seems to be doing bad. He was drunk on the plane today_

He didn’t hear back from Eric, but he hadn’t expected to. He was overstepping by texting him, and he should have just let it be. He sent Scraps a few texts wondering if he’d done the right thing. And then he wondered if he was doing the right thing by telling Jay about any of this, but, he knew that Jack had to have talked about him with Eric… it was fair, wasn’t it? Scraps promised him that it was fine, he should have texted him. It didn’t do much to help Kent relax. What did help was the following conversation. 

‘ _I have a week-long roadie to the east coast. I checked your schedule and you’ll be at home. Maybe I could visit?’_

_‘Shit! I mean, if you want me there. I don’t have to if you don’t want to.’_

Kent couldn't help his laugh. He was glad that he had gotten an Uber to take him home so he could answer him right away, ‘ _i would like that a lot providence is a beautiful city’._ The butterflies in his stomach were getting harder and harder to ignore, especially when Jay went and did something like that. He sunk further into his seat, smiling softly at his phone. It wouldn’t be for a few months but Kent was already counting down the days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: budding alcoholism... I'm really sorry y'all. It'll get better, cross my heart.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Things are really starting to heat up, eh?


	7. Gay Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's not doing awesome but Scraps comes and visits Kent! Gay Panic follows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a lot of triggers in this one! But I added them at the end just in case.

The next few months passed relatively uneventfully. The Falconers were somehow doing well, even projected to head to the playoffs. To Jack, it was more of a relief than anything else. He wasn’t himself these days, and he knew that. He could feel it every time he got on and off the ice, or every time he looked at Kent or Bitty. If things weren’t feeling muted, they were heightened by anxiety and anger, and guilt. He was constantly ping-ponging between the highest highs and lowest lows. Technically, he was seeing a therapist once a week (at the insistence of his mother), but he’d skipped a few times, opting instead to get a drink or two. Or three. He was drinking more now than he had since the overdose. It just helped so much with all the feelings.

Though he was drinking like he was in the Q, it wasn't the same. He was too afraid to start relying on his pills like that again, but the alcohol made everything feel a little easier, a little more manageable. It got him looser than he’d since before the accident. 

He knew that Bitty was unhappy; saw it in his face every time he walked into their apartment. They hadn’t had a real conversation in ages and when they did actually talk to each other, it wasn’t anything of substance, just stupid trivial stuff. They’d mention the games in passing, or Bitty would ask about dinner, and Jack only ever gave him the bare minimum response. It was just another item to add to the long list of things he felt guilty about. And another line on the list of things he couldn’t do anything about right now.

The good news, however, was that Tater was doing much better. His cast had come off and he was working on physical therapy, but it was slow going and he wasn’t able to walk properly quite yet. He spent most of his time in a bed, on the couch, or in a wheelchair. Jack wasn’t positive what Tater did once he was there, but that wasn’t important. All that did matter was that the Russian wasn’t out on the ice with Jack, and he never would be again. Shit. Somehow he still managed to keep in high spirits, and he helped Bitty a lot too. If he wasn’t there… Jack didn’t want to think about that. It made him feel worse than he already did. Just add it to his mental list.

Jack tapped his fingers against the bartop and ordered another shot. This would be his last. At least for the day. 

XXX

All of a sudden, the season was halfway done and the Aces were going on their week-long roadie to the east coast. Kent was sure that he had only just put the dates in his phone yesterday, but Jay’s visit was almost upon him. Not an actual date, though! Just the dates he was in town. The Aces’ last game was in New York, so Jay would have to travel to Providence after, and then he would only be able to stay for two nights. Though they didn’t have a ton of time together, it was better than nothing. 

The Aces were doing great in their season without Kent, so well in fact that when they were in Providence, they beat the Falcs three to one. Kent tried to ignore the hurt that blossomed in his chest at both the loss and seeing his old team, but it grew like a hideous fungus. He wasn’t sure when he’d started referring to the Aces as ‘his old team’ and the Falcs as ‘his team’ but somewhere between arriving in Providence and now his mind had made the switch. He didn’t know how he felt about it. It didn’t help that they targeted him like nobody’s business. Everyone could see that some of those hits were just plain dirty. And to top it all off, Jack was on his ass the whole time. Kent never got any time to take a breather, and it was wearing him thin. He was okay with the yelling and fighting when they were in games, but he knew almost for a fact that the next day Jack would chew him out, and probably in front of the entire team, too. 

Of course, Kent was right. When fucking wasn’t he? Practice had barely started before Jack was on his ass about the night before. 

“You were sloppy,” he practically spat as they started their warmups. Fucking hell, Kent didn’t need this today. He was tired, and losing last night had hurt more than he wanted to admit. 

“Sorry,” he said, and Jack moved on until a little while later when Kent took a shot that slipped right past Snowy and sunk into the net. It was a good shot, it had felt right when he was in the motions. So, of course Jack had to skate up and ruin it. 

“Your goalie isn’t as good as Snowy, you couldn't have done that last night?” 

Kent grit his teeth, trying not to lose his precarious chill. “Snowy is my goalie now, in case you hadn’t realized. Or did that concussion knock a few screws loose?” 

Jack snorted, but it wasn't playful or teasing. “You’re going back eventually, aren’t you? Or are you _afraid_ they won’t take you back?” 

“They probably won’t,” Kent said without even thinking. He had known since he came out that his career with the Aces was over, but he’d been ignoring it in favor of playing good hockey. Even with all the bullshit going on he could still do his job; he was still one of the best players in the league. All of a sudden, he noticed that the skating around him had stopped, and everyone’s attention was focused on him and Jack. May as well put on a show if everyone had already bought their tickets, right? 

“Don’t play well with others?” Jack asked. He was standing still as well, looking at Kent with… Kent couldn’t put a name to the emotion. It wasn’t hate… anger maybe? He didn’t like it, whatever it was. Either way, here was his chance, he could come out and be okay here. Jack was out, right? The Falconers would protect him while he was there. 

“Actually,” Kent started, lining up a shot, “It’s because I’m gay.” He took the shot and it sailed past Snowy, who was staring at Kent, along with the rest of the team. This kind of staring was different somehow than before; he wasn’t sure if it was better or worse yet. He kept his eyes glued on the puck a second longer than was strictly necessary before looking at Jack to see his reaction. 

His mouth was hung open in a surprised ‘o’. Good, he hadn’t been expecting that. Kent liked keeping Jack on his toes, not enough people did these days. When he looked around at rest of the team, their surprise was different. It wasn’t a ‘you came out’ kind of surprise, it was a ‘holy fuck you’re gay?’. Both reactions were equally satisfying as hell.

“You came out?” Jack finally choked out at the same time someone, Kent wasn’t sure who, said, “Wait, you’re gay?” 

“Mhm. Beginning of this year, actually.” Kent leaned against his stick, the picture of nonchalance. His heart was hammering out of his chest but already this was going much better than with the Aces. 

“That’s why they didn’t protect you?” Jack whispered this time, he didn’t think that it was loud enough for the rest of the team to hear, but they were standing quite close, and it was almost dead silent on the ice. Jack looked… he looked sad now. Kent tried to not let that get to him. 

After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded his head. “Yeah, that’s why.” 

It looked like Jack was going to say something else, that the conversation wasn’t over but before he could, someone else, again Kent didn’t know who, said, “Wait, are you gay gay or are you Jack Zimmermann gay?” 

Kent raised an eyebrow and turned around, looking around at the guys, “What the fuck does that mean?” 

“Like… do you still like women?” 

“I’m bi,” Jack said before Kent had the chance. “Who I’m with at any given time doesn’t negate that. I’m with Bits, yeah, and will be for the rest of our lives-” Well, Jack hoped so, but Kent didn’t think he was doing a very good job of keeping Bitty at that moment, “but that doesn’t erase the part of me that’s attracted to women.” 

Kent may have been mad at Jack most days but he could appreciate a good thing when he heard it, and that was a good thing. He turned back to the player that had asked the question to begin with. “I’m gay gay,” he said, “Like, really gay.” 

The player nodded a little bit, “Right, yeah. That’s cool. Thanks for uh, trusting us?” 

Kent snorted, but still broke into a smile. An actually genuine one, too. “Yeah, well, you’re my teammates, right?” He looked around and then cleared his throat. “Stop staring at me. We have hockey to play.” He ignored how amazing it felt for them not to react like the Aces did. He’d go so far as to say they had accepted him. 

Shoulders relaxing, he risked a split-second glance at Jack. Jack was already looking at him, and they locked eyes for a moment. Again, he didn’t know what emotion Jack was showing, but it wasn’t like it was earlier. It was softer now.

For the next few days, Jack wasn’t as much of an asshole as he had been. It was nice to not have to worry as much when he was trying to practice, but Kent had other things on his mind, like a certain hockey boy that would be visiting. 

It was late, well past one in the morning, when the text came through to let Kent know Scraps had finally made it to his apartment, ‘ _Fuck it’s cold out here please let me in’_

Kent laughed, hurrying to the door to open it for Scraps. “You really are a Vegas boy, huh?” He teased. 

“Shut the fuck up, Parse. Like you haven’t been living in the desert for the better part of ten years.” Scraps countered, making his way into the apartment and gently knocking Kent’s shoulder with his. Kent swore he lingered a little, but that was probably just his dumb brain. Scraps looked around as he shouldered off his jacket, but he was exhausted and not really taking everything in. 

“You need to get some sleep.” Kent shut the door and took the slowly slipping bag from Scrap’s hand, not brushing their fingertips at all no matter how much he craved the touch right now. “I saw the game, you did well.” He started walking down the hallway, nodding in a way he hoped Jay understood as ‘follow me’. 

“Hm, yeah.” Jay slowly followed Kent, looking like he was about to fall asleep on his feet. “I did well. Team played like ass. Got lucky with that win.” 

Kent pushed open the guest room door, “The other guys played worse, though.” 

“Mhm.” Jay looked around the room like he had in the entry hall, and then yawned loudly, “Fuck, sorry,” he rubbed his eyes. God, he was cute. Kent thought but quickly shook it out of his head. 

“You’re fine,” He smiled, “Bathroom is down the hall. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” 

“Mhm.” Jay said again and Kent laughed. 

“It’s good to see you.” The softness in Kent’s tone startled him, he hadn’t expected himself to sound so… fuck. He sounded fond. He didn’t even know if Jay was gay! 

“It’s good to see you too.” Jay smiled, but then immediately followed it up with, “Now get the fuck outta my room.”

The short amount of time they had together was wonderful. Kent hadn’t spent much time exploring Providence yet, but he had tried, on his off days, to look for some small secret spots around the city that he could carve out for himself. He’d been mildly successful and took Jay to visit those. The first was a small hole-in-the-wall coffee shop with excellent lattes that weren’t too far off their meal plans. The owners were great, and never bothered Kent or let their other customers approach him. Kent had originally thought it’d be nice to be able to relax with Jay in public without anyone coming up to ask for an autograph, but as he watched Jay moan into his mug and lick some foam from his lips he suddenly regretted all the life decisions that brought him to this moment in time. Or maybe he was thankful for them. Jury was still out. 

The next secret spot was a small overlook of the city that you could take a quick hike up to. It wasn’t a super long hike, but it had some physically challenging parts that made the overlook less popular, and quiet. He liked to go there sometimes for a little peace, and hoped Jay liked it as much as he did. The hike to the top wasn’t too bad, and it helped work off the extra coffee calories too. An added bonus was getting to stare at Jay’s ass on the steeper inclines, feeling guilty and stopping, then giving in again for a little. Kent might have been imagining it, but he was almost positive that as they stood together, breathless and watching the bustling city, Jay moved a little closer to him. It was probably his imagination. It probably didn’t happen.

Unless it did. 

His mind wrapped its claws around it and refused to let it go.

Then, when he brought Jay to the airport, he _swore_ Jay’s eyes lingered a few seconds too long on his lips. But that couldn’t be true. He knew that it couldn’t be. It was just his mind hoping for the best, hoping that Scraps could like him back. 

He was pretty sure he sounded like a child. Or at least, he did in his own mind. He drove back to his apartment, mind swirling with questions about Jay. He didn’t really have anyone to talk to. He was already closer with this team than he had ever been with the Aces, but he still wasn’t friends with most of them, and none of them would be able to help him with his gay panic. There was only one other person he knew of that might be able to help, but it seemed like a terrible option. He hesitated before biting the bullet and texting Eric. 

The last message he’d sent was from the roadie where Jack was drunk a few months back. He stared at the message for a long time. Eric had never responded, though he wasn’t surprised by that. He hadn’t been expecting a text back, and it was almost a relief that he didn't have to explain more in-depth why he was so worried. He wasn’t sure how much Eric knew about what had happened. 

He let out a slow breath and tapped out a message, ‘ _can i ask you a question’_

It seemed like the most straightforward way to go about something like this. A response came almost right away, which surprised him. He knew that Eric spent a lot of time at the house with Tater, but he hadn’t been expecting an answer so quickly. 

‘ _Depends. What’s it about?’_

Kent decided just to jump right into it. If Eric didn’t want to respond then he wouldn’t have to, ‘ _i like someone but i dunno if he’s gay’_

This time there was a longer time before Eric answered, the whole time there was a nervous pit in the bottom of Kent’s stomach. He had just _come out_ to Eric Bittle, Jack’s fiance. Fuck, he was a fucking idiot. He was about to hide his phone for the next thousand years when it buzzed with a notification. It was from Eric. 

‘I _don’t know if that’s something I can help with. But I can try.’_

Kent’s whole body relaxed. He gave himself a moment to calm down, _‘i’ve seen a couple of your interviews’_ This was a lie, Kent had seen every single one of Eric’s interviews since he had come out. Call it jealousy for multiple reasons. Eric had a lot of things Kent didn’t, he had Jack, he had a team to love and support him… he was out. Kent had actually talked about his mild obsession with his therapist. Because he’d had one of those on and off for the past ten years, so take that people that told him he had the emotional maturity of a teenager! _‘you didn’t know Jack was bi?’_

Instead of waiting for a response, he got up and started getting his dinner ready. He could cook pretty well, he thought, even if Jay teased him for it. Not everyone had the luxry of coming from a family that gave a shit, let alone a big Italian one, thank you very much.

Despite trying to ignore his phone, he grabbed it as soon as he got the notification. It was a few minutes later, and he’d only just started getting his meal together. 

_‘Jack isn’t here for dinner tonight and I made way too much for Tater and I. You busy?’_

Kent stared at his phone for a long time. Was Eric inviting him over for dinner? That didn’t seem right, he knew that Eric hated him, and what if Jack found out? He set his phone down, taking a moment to breathe. He should go. This was a good ‘healing moment’ as his therapist would nag. 

‘ _i’m not doing anything_

Eric responded with his address, and Kent quickly got changed. He wasn’t sure what to wear, and almost texted Jay but decided against it since he was probably in the air still anyway. He opted for a polo and jeans; that was casual, right? He looked at himself in the mirror, fixed his hair quickly, and then left. It turned out that he only lived a few blocks away, and as such, opted to walk. Multiple times during the short walk he nearly let Eric know that he couldn't come after all, Hhat there was an emergency or that he wasn’t feeling well but his feet continued to carry him until he was at their home. He let Eric know that he was there and was let inside. 

Their home wasn’t at all what he expected. It looked cozy, with accents of both Jack and Bitty. He knew right away that Jack had almost nothing to do with the design of their home, just from how nice it looked. One wall was all windows that overlooked the city, the other had a tv mounted on it, and the wall that gave way to a hallway, and probably the rest of the apartment, was covered in photos and memorabilia. Both of them had their Samwell jerseys hung up, and there was a shelf of pucks and pictures of people Kent kind of recognized from social media and the few times he went to the house the Samwell team had lived it. 

“She kicked my ass at beer pong,” was the first thing that came out of his mouth, after their hellos and brief small talk. He was pointing to a picture of Lardo and Shitty at their wedding. They’d gotten married a few years prior, and Jack had been the photographer. They had pictures of a lot of their friends' weddings displayed, even pictures of some kids. 

Eric laughed, “Lardo, yeah, she was proud of that. I think the picture is hanging in their house somewhere.” 

Kent smiled, a ghost of a thing. He was incredibly uncomfortable and it looked like Bitty was too. He looked around again, and despite the warmth of the photos on the wall and the typical lived in clutter, the house felt… cold. Devoid of something he couldn’t quite name. It was almost unsettling. He shifted from foot to foot, “Thanks for inviting me over.” 

“Ah, don’t thank me. Tater’s idea, actually." 

Fuck. Right. Kent had forgotten that Tater was living here, and almost on cue, Tater came in on a wheelchair. He grinned, “Is rat! Welcome to my home.” 

“It is _not_ your home,” Eric scolded, but it sounded more fond than anything else. “You are merely a _guest_.” 

Kent tried not to stare at Tater as he rolled into the room but it was hard not to. He had a very long scar that wasn’t fully healed running up almost the entire length of his right leg, or Kent assumed that was the case. It disappeared under a pair of shorts so he couldn’t see how high up it went. It looked awful and horribly painful. He opened his mouth to say something but abruptly shut it instead. He knew Tater couldn’t play again, but what could he say? Sure, his persona to the rest of the world was a cocky asshole but that wasn’t right in this situation. He didn’t want to be that Kent. 

“Is rude to stare,” Tater clucked, wheeling right up to the table. “But is understandable. Am not so pretty now, am I? One leg much smaller than the other. Am looking different.” 

Kent cleared his throat, and said the first thing that came to mind, “I dunno, you were never pretty to me.” Holy shit, was he chirping this guy? What the fuck was- his train of thought was derailed by deep laughing. 

“Is funny, this one! Not so bad off the ice. On the ice ehh,” Tater grinned, making a so-so hand motion in the air. 

Eric walked in from the kitchen, setting plates down on the table. “Have a seat, Kent,” he smiled. “Do you want anything to drink?” 

Hesitantly, Kent sat at the table, “No, thank you. Well, maybe just water?” 

“‘Course.” Eric disappeared once more and reemerged with the water for Kent, a glass of something for Tater, and wine for himself. He sat down and took a few deep sips of his wine before focusing on Kent. “So, tell me about this boy.” 

“I-” He looked at Tater. It wasn’t that he cared if the Russian knew, in fact, he was sure he already had. He just wasn’t expecting dinner to go quite like this. 

Bitty waved a hand at Tater as if dismissing him, “Jack forgot he was here the other day when he was telling me you came out to the team. I don’t know how he forgot, that boy’s head is always somewhere else.” Something dark passed over Bitty’s features for a second before he went back to normal. Though, even his normal seemed drained and sad. All of a sudden Kent felt so sad for the man sitting across from him. Bitty cleared his throat, “But, anyway, Tater knows. He’s okay with it… obviously. He’s living with Jack and me.” 

Kent swallowed, taking a sip of water to try to lessen the scratchiness in his throat. It was one thing to text Bitty for advice and another to ask it in person, “There’s this guy that I like… quite a lot.” He pushed his food around on his plate, taking in a slow breath, “But I don’t know if he’s gay or not.” He looked up, directly at Eric. “How did you do it? With Jack?” 

“How’d you?” He asked. Kent, who was taking a bite of food, started coughing, having accidentally inhaled his food. 

“What?” 

“How’d you figure it out?” 

“I- we-” He looked at Tater, who was eating his food like there was absolutely nothing wrong. He must have already known, or maybe Jack had let this slip last night too. “It was just hockey,” he mumbled. It was true. He was never truly in love with Jack, only even the idea of him. His moving on was so much deeper than unrequited love. “And we were alone after practice one day.” He looked over at the kitchen, “Do you have alcohol? I need alcohol for this conversion.” 

“Yeah, beer?” Bitty stood and went to the fridge. Kent grunted his confirmation, and Bitty returned a moment later with a can of beer that he set in front of Kent. 

He opened it and took a few long sips before setting it back down. “It was different than this is. Yeah, I thought that Jack was straight but not for long. There was enough tension and confusion back then that it hadn’t mattered. I didn’t have the time to think about it too much. And it wasn’t… it’s not like this.” He took another sip, “I don’t want to hide Jay,” he whispered. Saying it out loud was like a boulder being lifted off of him. 

Bitty nodded slowly, watching Kent closely. He was about to speak when Tater interrupted him, “You an idiot,” he decided. 

Kent blinked, “Excuse me?” 

“You an idiot,” he repeated as if that explained everything. “Very stupid. Just ask.” 

“I can’t! He’s my best friend and I can’t risk ruining this.” He hated the twinge of desperation in his voice but it was true. He would lock his feelings away forever if it meant that he wouldn’t lose Scraps in the end. 

Eric drummed his fingers against the tabletop for a moment, “I thought Jack was straight up until the moment he kissed me. I thought a few times maybe but…” He looked over at Kent, a small smile on his lips. “I wouldn’t do that with your man. It seems that there’s more to this than just your own feelings, you’re too… I don’t know. Overthinking. Do you think he could feel the same?” 

Immediately, Kent thought back to the day before with the overlook, and then earlier when they were saying goodbye at the airport, “Yes. Maybe. I don’t want to get my hopes up.” 

“There’s got to be a reason why you think this?” 

“He visited me. I brought him to the airport a few hours ago but when he was here it felt… it felt romantic. I hadn’t seen him since I got here. We talk every day but-” 

“Hold on. He isn’t a hockey player, is he?” Bitty raised an eyebrow. 

Silence fell over them, and Kent almost looked guilty, “Yeah. He’s on the Aces.” 

“Then how did he get the time to see you?” Bitty’s eyebrows knitted together. 

“He came here after his game in New York,” Kent explained, head tilting to the side a little. 

Bitty laughed, “Kent!-” It caught Parse off guard to hear his name come from Eric. He was pretty sure he had never heard him say it, but now he was laughing while saying it? It was odd, for sure. “He drove how many hours to see you? After a game, I assume? He definitely likes you. There isn’t a doubt in my mind.” 

“But-” 

“No, listen to me. He wanted to see you, it would have been much easier for him to just say he was too tired, or that he didn’t have time, but he went out of his way to come to you. That’s a special boy. I vote you ask him.”

Tater, once again, mumbled into his plate, “Idiot.” 

Kent wanted to be offended, he really did, but he couldn’t. He found he rather liked being chirped like this, or at least, he was assuming he was being chirped. He chewed his lip and then nodded, “Yeah… yeah, I can do that. I can ask. I- even if he doesn't feel the same, it probably won’t change things too much, right?” 

“Not if he’s understanding.” 

“He is understanding. He’s the only one who-” He stopped talking and finished his beer instead. He didn’t want to pour his heart out to his ex’s finance on only their second civil meeting. “Not a big deal. He’s understanding,” he said in place of what he really wanted to. Bitty looked like he understood.

“To answer your question. How I managed when I thought Jack was straight? Lots and lots of Beyonce,” he smiled. Kent smiled back, and it was the most relaxed since he’d arrived in Providence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack is drinking at the beginning of the story and he'd def an alcoholic. It also mentions the overdose. But his part is short as this mostly focuses on Kent.


	8. Tides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kent snaps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check the end for tag warnings!! 
> 
> SHOUT OUT TO MY AMAZING BETA READER OKAY I LITREALLY COULND"T BE DOING THIS WITHOUT HER

Everything came to a head at the end of March. Kent and Bitty had been spending a lot more time together, and after the first time Kent had come over for dinner (he still hadn’t asked Scraps what his sexuality was, too afraid to ruin what he had), a tentative friendship had been formed. Sometimes Kent would go over to the house (when Jack wasn’t around), or they’d go out to grab a coffee. Kent even took Bitty to the secret coffee shop he'd brought Jay to, and in turn, Bitty brought Kent to the bakery that had the ‘second-best baked goods in Providence, behind yours truly’. Tater occasionally went with them when they went out, but he largely stayed home, though he was able to walk a little bit now. He couldn’t go for long, and he needed a cane (or Bitty) to help him, but he was doing well. 

When he wasn’t there, Bitty and Kent would talk about him. Not in a bad way, never bad, but Bitty felt guilty going out and enjoying himself when Tater couldn’t. It was something that Kent could understand, he had felt that way for a while after Jack, but he didn’t tell Bitty that. There was a kind of safety in their conversations, but if Jack hadn’t told Bitty about what had happened that night and the following few weeks, Kent sure as hell wasn’t going to. He wasn’t going to ruin one of his only friendships in Providence just because he held a vague grudge against his partner. 

He did, however, talk about the few weeks leading up to the overdose. They were in the back of Bitty’s favorite bakery, at a table that hid them well from other people. Eric was the first to bring it up. “Kent, I want to... “ He took a deep breath. “I want to ask you something. And if you don’t think you should answer that’s okay.” 

Right away, Kent knew it was about Jack. He nodded slowly, “Go ahead.” 

“Before he-” Bitty sniffed, wiping his eyes quickly. “I’m so worried about him right now,” he whispered, meeting Kent’s eyes for a moment. It was the first time he’d let on how bad things had gotten since the accident. “He isn’t okay but I don’t know how to help and- anyway. Anyway, you’ve seen him like this, haven’t you?” He whispered like the words were getting stuck in his throat. “How worried do you think I should be?” 

Kent stared at his mug of coffee for a few long minutes, trying to carefully pick his next words. “Jack is different now. I don’t know him like I did then,” he started. “He isn’t as bad, I wouldn’t say. But back then it was different. He wouldn’t go drink alone-” Bitty’s breath hitched and his eyes trained on Kent. Maybe that was something he didn’t think anyone else knew about. “We had parties, and we’d get wasted at those or together, just us. It isn’t the same.” He drummed his fingers against the table. “You should be worried. He needs help but I don’t think he’s going to OD again. I’ve been paying attention-” 

“You have?” Bitty looked a second away from crying.

“Of course I have. He’s my captain and he was, at one point, my friend.” He took a sip of his coffee to distract himself from the feelings welling up in his gut. “And I know now not to ignore the warning signs.

Bitty was quiet for a few moments, nodding a little, “You felt like it was your fault?” He whispered. 

This was too much for this time of day. Or, no, it was too much for him while he was sober. “I did, yeah. I uh, still do. Sometimes. I know he’s in a better place, a great place even, with you, but I still…” He couldn’t tell Bitty anymore than what he had already, it didn’t seem right, so he just shrugged a shoulder, “It’s okay though. It’s better now. I don’t think that I should tell you any more about then without Jack. It doesn't seem right.” 

Bitty nodded, somewhat surprised by Kent’s proclamation, honestly. Kent was different than how he had expected, much nicer and kinder than when he had spoken to him in college, and even after. It was refreshing, which was why he continued to spend time with Kent after their dinner. He seemed like a put together asshole, but underneath that was something Bitty couldn’t put his finger on. It wasn’t bad, nor scary… it was a sadness. Bitty hated how familiar that buried sadness felt to him.

“Are you okay now that you’re on the same team?” He asked gently. “I know he’s been different but-” 

“It’s been fine,” he said a little too quickly. It sounded tinny and fake even to Kent’s ears. “We try. Jack is going through a lot, and everyone on the team knows that.” He swirled his coffee in its mug. He didn’t want Bitty to know what was going on in practice, he had enough to worry about without Kent adding his boyfriend being an asshole for no reason. 

There were a few moments of tense silence between them, but Bitty nodded after a moment. “I’m sure it’ll get better. He just needs time,” he looked to the side, letting out a slow breath. 

Kent nodded a little in agreement, “Yeah, time.” 

XXX

Jack spent most of his days in a haze, and it wasn’t always because of the alcohol. Sometimes he was just out of it, out of touch with himself, reality, what was going on around him. He was trying though, he really was. He had been trying to talk to Bitty or Tater but every time he did it felt like the gap was just too big, and he fell silent once more which caused more anxiety, doubt, and guilt, and the cycle continued. 

He took it out on Parse most days. Management had spoken to him a time or two, but Kent had never complained to them, so there wasn’t much that they could do, and Jack didn’t stop. Kent fought back anyway. He played hockey, he could hold his own. 

Or, at least, Jack thought that he could. He wasn’t ready for the explosion of anger that came from Kent one day after a particularly rough call out on Jack’s part. 

XXX

“Jesus, Kent!” Jack snapped. “Pull your head out of your ass and play hockey, will you? You aren’t a golden boy here.” 

Kent tossed his stick to the ground and skated over to Jack, “You think you’re better than me? You’re just a daddy’s boy,” he sneered. The team had stopped around them in favor of watching the two of them fight. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, but this seemed much worse than usual. Both men were simmering with unchecked rage towards each other with nowhere to put it. 

Kent knew, he knew what saying that to Jack would do, but he still wasn’t expecting the push that came. He pushed back, snarling. “Fuck! You started this you fucking asshole!” He shouted. 

Jack looked ready to attack, his eyes alight with fury. He started to say something but Kent cut him off. 

“No! Shut the fuck up! You’re destroying us!” he yelled. The air was so tense it crackled. “You’re fucking killing this team, Jack. Hell, I’ll take responsibility too, _we’re_ destroying the team!” 

Jack’s eyes darted around the team but landed back on Kent. “Well, if you’d just fucking _listen_ to me-” 

“Listen?!” Kent was hysterical. “That’s a fucking joke, Zimms, and you know it! I listened to you for _years!_ You were my captain! You were-” He stopped, jaw snapping shut. Jack probably knew what he wanted to say, and he was almost positive he hated him for it. 

“We are _not_ doing this here,” Jack hissed, attempting to end the conversation. Well, if you could even call what they yelled on the ice a conversation. Yeah, fuck that noise, Kent thought.

“No! We are! You don’t talk to me off the ice so we’re fucking do this right here, you dick,” Kent skated closer to Jack. “I listened to you,” he hissed. “I listened and I listened-"

“And you went first.” 

“You’re right! Wow! But you know why that was? Because you went and you-!” Kent’s voice cracked and he skated back a bit. Kent needed space if he was really going to finally do this. He could swear he felt the team press closer to them. “I hated you! I fucking hated you so much, Jack! It wasn’t just yourself you hurt that night! It was me too! I-I-I I _found you!_ I thought you were dead! And then they took you away and you know what happened next?” 

Everyone around them was holding their breath, no one had ever heard anything about the overdose aside from what was in the media. Yet Kent didn’t care. He didn’t care that Jack wanted to run and hide, or that he looked uncomfortable. He needed to hear this, and he needed to hear it desperately. 

“ _Nothing,_ ” he spat. “Not a damn fucking thing. You might not have died that night- which, which you did by the way. I watched them keep you alive once they’d brought you back. I sat in that hospital room with your parents until the very second that I couldn’t and when you woke up? You didn’t speak to me. You died! You died to me and then pretended like it shouldn’t have hurt. I lost _everything_ that night, I lost _you._ I mourned you! _”_ He wasn’t sure when he had started crying but somewhere along the line he had. He pulled his glove off his hand and roughly wiped at his eyes. This was awful and embarrassing, and he had just outed him and Jack to a group of people neither of them knew very well but somehow he didn’t care. Jack deserved to hear this. He needed to.

“And-” He continued before Jack got the chance to speak, “I get to watch you do it all over again.” He leveled Jack with a glare, one that said, ‘try to say something to hurt me now, bitch’. But Jack just opened and closed his mouth a few times like a fish. He looked like an idiot, Kent thought. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally choked out, and that was the last thing Kent had expected to hear. He thought he’d yell back or something but… 

Jack shook his head, body crumpling in on itself, and for a second Kent was sure he was going to fall. “Oh god, I’m so sorry.” 

XXX 

Jack felt everyone’s eyes on him. He felt their judgment, the truth behind Kent’s words. He had been angry at Kent for years after his overdose, but why? It had been Jack’s fault just as much as it had been Kent’s, if not more. The world dipped and spun around him as he processed everything he’d just been told. He wasn’t being a good captain, boyfriend, no, _fiancé,_ friend. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he’d talked to Shitty. He knew he’d call him out and he just- Well he got into the habit of declining calls. Jack wasn’t- He brought his hands to his temples and pressed the heel of his palms against them, seeing spots. He was going to fall over, but one of his D-men skated up to him as he started swaying. From somewhere far away, he heard his coach call the practice. He wondered why they had let Parse go on like that, why they didn’t call it earlier. 

He had probably been doing what everyone else had wanted to for so long but didn’t know how, and that thought made him feel worse. 

Whoever had their arms on him helped him skate off the ice, and as soon as he was in the clear, he made a beeline towards the locker room. He was going to be sick.

He spent a few minutes locked in the bathroom, not moving. He was close to a panic attack, but surprisingly, he wasn’t in the middle of one. He tugged on his hair, trying to clear his thoughts. He had to fix this. Could he fix this? He was about to curl in on himself and cry when there was a knock on the door. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to someone, but he supposed he didn’t have a choice, “What?” His voice was scratchy from getting sick. 

He was expecting Marty’s comforting French, but instead, he got Kent’s. «Are you okay?» 

In an instant, he was throwing open the door, “What are you-?” 

Parse was changed out of his practice equipment and was in jeans and a t-shirt. How long had Jack been in the bathroom stall? Kent’s arms were crossed over his chest. “I figured I should check on you. You need to get changed,” he mused. “Or at least get out of your pads.”

Why the fuck was Parse being nice to him? After everything that had just happened on the ice, after everything Jack had done to him, “Why are- I thought you hated me.” 

“If me hating you is the only thing you got from that whole deal, I can’t fucking help you, Zimms,” Parse shook his head. “I’ve tried. Ball’s in your court now.” 

“I don’t like basketball,” Jack muttered. He moved slowly past Kent to get to his locker. He realized that almost everyone else had left, and Jack didn’t blame them. How had they put up with him for so long? How-? He took a shuddering breath, then started to get undressed. Kent sat on the bench across from him, watching him intently. 

Silence stretched between them for a long time, save for the occasional rusting of clothes. “I’m sor-” 

“I’m not going to say you don’t owe me an apology. You owe everyone on this team an apology, but I’m not the first one who needs to hear it,” Kent said bluntly. Jack’s eyebrows furrowed, “What-?” 

“You're an idiot,” Kent shook his head, exasperated. “You know that? You have this wonderful thing. Eric is a great guy. He’s stayed with you through all of this. Tell me honestly, when was the last time you _talked_ to him?” 

Jack didn’t know. He really didn’t. He had gotten so lost in his own head that he’d lost track of all of that. He wasn’t even sure if he’d kissed Bitty recently, and all of a sudden he felt like he was going to throw up again. When had he let things get like his? And _why?_ “I don’t know.” 

“I do. He told me.” 

“Right. He- he mentioned you two were talking.” 

“Friends, Jack. He and I are friends.” 

That word slapped Jack in the face. Bitty and Kent were friends. When had that happened? How had it happened? He stopped moving and looked at Kent for a long time. “Oh,” he said lamely. 

“To answer my own question, it was the first time you got drunk, three weeks after the accident. That was the last time you had a real conversation with him.” 

Jack remembered that conversation. He had started to feel better after that, but then he went to practice and the shame had swallowed him whole, and he had just wanted to make everything numb again. So, he had. And he started drinking more and more until he was where he was now. How had it gotten so bad? 

“I didn’t mean to.” He was done changing now and was just sitting on the bench across from Kent. 

“He deserves an apology,” Kent said, “and he deserves better.” 

Jack sucked in a breath, Kent was right. Of course he was. “I know,” he looked at the floor. “How could he have stayed with me?”

Kent shrugged a shoulder but didn’t answer beyond that. He stood up, grabbing his bag, “You need to go home, Jack. You need to get better. I don’t want to watch you kill yourself again.” 

The words were the most sobering thing Jack had heard in months. He was killing himself. Maybe part of him was already dead. He stood up as well, “Yeah, I-” He looked away. “Can you… I don’t think that I should-” 

“I’ll give you a ride. You live right by me,” Kent nodded a little bit, then pushed himself up his feet, gesturing towards the door. “Come on then.” 

Jack grabbed his bag and followed Kent out. He had a lot of things to make up for, lots of apologies and begging. He would beg Bitty to forgive him, and spend every day of the rest of their lives making up for what he’d done. He hoped that it wasn’t too late. 

The ride to his house wasn’t nearly as awkward as Jack thought it would be. As he opened the door to get out, he turned to Kent. “I am sorry,” he said, desperate to get his point across. “I heard you earlier. I just… I’m sorry. _Truly_. I’m going- I’ll try to fix it.” 

Kent nodded a little. “Thank you.” He wasn’t ready to forgive him, not yet anyway. Kent still needed a little more something, a little more weight behind Jack’s words, but he still appreciated the gesture. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow?” 

“Yeah, that’d be good, thanks.” Jack shut the door behind him, then walked into his building. He felt himself getting heavier and heavier with each step… he could just turn around and walk to the nearest bar and Bitty wouldn’t know that he was here. He and Parse were friends now, though, and maybe Parse would tell Bitty about what had happened. That really did confuse him, he wasn’t sure how he felt about it… though, it didn’t really matter. Bitty was his own person. A person with who Jack had become so disconnected. He tugged his hair while he stood in the elevator. He was fine. It was Bitty. He could do this. 

The house smelled like blueberries. Tater was in a wheelchair in the kitchen, pushed up to the island, and Bitty was working what looked like pie filling, though he whirled around when he heard the door open and shut. “Jack!” He looked surprised. “You’re home so early! What happened? Is everything okay?” He looked like he wanted to walk over and give Jack a hug, but something stopped him, and Jack wasn’t sure if it was the food he was cooking or Jack’s own demeanor that was keeping him away. It was probably both, honestly. How long had it been since Bitty had hugged Jack when he got home?

He nodded a little, “Yeah, I’m okay. There was just…” he trailed off. Bitty would hate him if he found out how he’d been treating Parse these past few months, “They let us out early is all,” he looked past Bitty to the pot that was on the stove. “Are you… are you almost done with that?” 

Bitty followed Jack’s eyes and nodded. “Ten minutes, maybe. Why?” 

“I’m going to shower and… then maybe we can talk?” 

Bitty’s stomach plummeted. Jack was going to break up with him after all this time. “I don’t know if I want to wait. If you want me to go just say it-” 

Jack’s eyes widened, and he realized he was still holding his bag. He dropped it onto the floor haphazardly. “What? No! Bits-” He crossed the kitchen in only a few long strides. “No, I don’t want you to leave. I don’t- no. I want you here. I want you to stay.” He looked down at Bitty, lightly putting his arms on his biceps, allowing Bitty to say he didn’t want Jack to touch him if he needed to. Jack had already caused enough harm, he didn’t need to make Bits even more uncomfortable.

Bitty looked at Jack’s hands quickly and then up at Jack. His eyes were wide and full of tears, “You don’t?” 

“No, no, Bits. I-” he shook his head, “Never. I’ll explain it all after I shower, okay? But you aren’t going anywhere. Not… not unless you want to,” he cleared his throat, suddenly unsure. 

Bitty nodded a little and brought his hands up and held onto Jack’s biceps. “I don’t want to leave.” 

For some reason, that was more than a little comforting to Jack. He was terrified that Bitty would want to leave, that this would be the end. “Good,” he dropped his hands and took a step back. “I- I won’t be long. Promise.” 

“Alright.” Bitty nodded and turned back to the pie filling, so he could finish cooking it off. 

As Jack headed to their bedroom, he could hear Tater say (quite loudly, honestly. If he was trying to whisper, he was not doing a good job), “Was good! Is a start, no?” He couldn’t hear Bitty’s response. He was pretty sure he didn’t want to. 

He tried not to take too long in the shower. He felt disgusting, but the almost too hot water made him feel slightly better, nearly human. He pulled on a threadbare Samwell shirt and sweatpants before padding back out to find Bitty. He and Tater were on the couch together, Bitty with his feet wiggled under Tater’s good leg. They weren’t talking, but the TV wasn’t on either, and Jack couldn’t help but wonder what they did with all their time. What kind of person was he that he didn’t know already? Tater had been home for months. 

There was a moment where he had the delirious thought of just walking out and not coming back. Bitty didn’t need him, he was surely better off without him, wasn’t he? But then he remembered the look of fear and sadness and hope that was on Bitty’s face when they spoke in the kitchen. He took a deep breath, “Bits?” 

Bitty’s head snapped towards Jack, “How long have you been there? I didn’t even hear you.” He slid his feet out from under Tater’s leg and stood. Tater grabbed the remote, and Bitty shifted a little, “You’ll be okay?” 

Tater glared half-heartedly at Bitty, “Yes, am fine. Can walk now, you know.” Bitty opened his mouth to say something, but Tater cut him off with a shake of his head, “You be in the next room. I can yell very loud, you know this. Am okay.” 

Despite his reassurances, Bitty seemed hesitant, but eventually, he and Jack went into their room. The click of the latch was deafening in such a small space when there was so much tension. “What do you want to talk about?” Bitty asked softly. He was standing by the door, looking like he wanted to bolt. 

Jack settled onto the edge of the bed, “You don’t have to stand.” 

Bitty didn’t move any closer. “What do you want to talk about?” He asked again. 

Jack took a deep steadying breath. “Euh, I-I need to apologize,” he whispered. He remembered their conversation all those months ago when Bitty had told him not to apologize until he meant it until he was going to be able to apologize for it all. He watched Bitty closely and didn’t miss the way his breath caught in his throat. 

“Jack,” he started, “I told you that I didn’t want-”

Suddenly, the distance between them felt like miles, something that couldn’t be crossed, “I know, I remember.” He didn’t move closer and Bitty didn’t move a muscle. Jack did fidget with his hands though, he wrung them together in his lap, desperate to expend some of his anxious energy.

“Then what are you doing?” 

“I, uh, had a wake-up call today,” he stammered. “Actually, it was Parse. I- He yelled at me-” 

“Good.” Bitty cut in, voice clipped but meaning it. 

He looked away from Bitty, “Euh anyway, I realized… he made me realize that I’m killing myself. Not like then but I’m- this isn’t healthy. I-I’m not healthy.” When he looked up, Bitty had moved just slightly closer to him. “But more than that,” he stopped, trying to think of how he wanted to say what was in his head. There was so much he wanted to say, and no real way to get it out into the open. “I’m losing y-you.” 

“Jack-” Bitty whispered, “You aren’t going to-” 

“It’s okay,” he shook his head. “It’s okay, Bits. If I keep going like this I’ll lose you and I _know_ I’ll have deserved it.” Saying it out loud made his skin crawl because holy shit, it was true. Jack would do anything to stop that from happening. “I haven’t been there for you. I could- I could see how much you were struggling, I could see that you weren’t okay but I was so focused on m-myself that I didn’t care. I didn’t care that this was affecting you as much as it was me-” He wiped away a few tears from his face and finally, finally looked over at Bitty, “You are amazing, you know? I, euh, can’t imagine how hard it must have been to take care of Tater like you have been.” He noticed that with every word, Bitty was inching closer to him. 

“W-what happened to me, to the team? It’s not an excuse,” he whispered. Scenes from the accident flickered through his mind, and he shook his head, trying to get them out. This wasn’t about that, this was about Bitty and trying desperately to apologize for what he had done. “You deserve so much more, so much better. A partner who would help you instead of dragging you d-down and I wasn’t that for you. I’m so sorry. I’m so- so sorry for pulling away, for hurting you. I can’t ever make it up to you, but I’ll spend the rest of our lives trying to make up for it, if- if you’ll let me.” 

He almost jumped out of his skin when Bitty put a hand on his shoulder. “I understand, it’s been hard for you,” he said thickly, like the words got stuck in his throat. Slowly, he sat down next to Jack. It felt like any sudden movement would break whatever this delicate thing between them was. “I’ve never been mad at you; frustrated and upset, but never mad.” He went quiet for a few minutes, Jack was in no rush to interrupt, before finding his words and continuing. “I’ve felt so terrible and worried about you and Tater. But mostly I’ve felt so _guilty.”_

“Guilty?” Jack whispered, tilting his head a little bit. 

“At first, I was just sad all the time because you were hurt and Tater was too. But then you pulled away and it turned into guilt because there was nothing that I could do to help you. I tried. I tried to be supportive by doing as much as I could for you, silently there, but nothing worked. In fact, it just got worse. So, then I was mad at myself because- because I couldn’t… I wasn’t doing enough for you. I know it’s ridiculous because it’s your brain. I can’t fix it, I can only do as much as you allow me to but…” his shoulders slumped. “And then when Tater came home? I still feel bad when I go do things that he can’t but it was much worse in the beginning. Even going to the kitchen-” He shook his head a little bit. Even now, even when they were supposed to be getting better, he felt bad for telling Jack how he was feeling because Jack should have been focusing on getting better. Bitty shouldn’t be adding to that. 

Jack’s stomach rolled, and he looked away. He was so ashamed of what he had done, but more importantly, what he _hadn’t,_ but Bitty reached up to tilt his head back towards him. Even after Jack’s eyes were back on Bitty’s, he didn’t move his hand, and Jack used the opportunity to lean into the touch. He hadn’t realized how touch starved he’d become. He had no one to blame but himself, really.

“Most recently I’ve been so scared, Jack. Every time you stayed out later than you should have or- or left earlier-” a few tears slipped out of his eyes, “I was so scared you weren’t going to come back home or you’d do something reckless. I don’t want to lose you-” 

Working on impulse alone, Jack reached up and wiped away one of Bitty’s tears. He didn’t speak, he didn’t want to take away from what Bitty was trying to say. 

“And you’ve been so different. I just- I just want my Jack back.” his voice cracked and Jack felt his heartbreak. He watched Bitty curl in on himself, and desperately, Jack wanted to touch him. 

Slowly, carefully, like he was afraid of hurting Bitty, he wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. Bitty wrapped his arms around Jack’s neck and sobbed, and Jack did too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack's an alcoholic still so uh, oop. Panic attack warning and also Kent outs he and Jack without Jack's consent but it's like... it's okay. Talks over the overdose as well. 
> 
> HOLY FUCK GUYS. This is it. Next chapter is the last one before the epilouge and wowowowowwow. We're almost at the end and I'm Shooketh. This, I think, may be my favorite chapter because it's the climax of the story and I'm so proud of how this came out. From here on out it's fluff. It's so fucking fluffy, y'all. Finally getting that comfort with yout angst. I hope you like this as much as I do :)


	9. In the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No trigger warnings for this one other than canon typical drinking and FLUFF
> 
> *plays Just Give Me a Reason and sobs*

Things were better. They weren’t perfect, but Jack had stopped drinking, and he started going to therapy twice a week instead of once a week, at least on the weeks they weren't on roadies. And he didn’t use not being home as an excuse anymore, instead calling his therapist when he felt a pull. It may have seemed like overkill but it helped him. He was able to talk through all the emotions he was getting from hockey, which was getting easier to play with every passing day. He didn’t feel the same ball of guilt and regret and anger that sat in the pit of his stomach every time he skated on the ice that had been torturing him before. He could talk about the accident, even briefly, without getting anxious or crying and lashing out. It still wasn’t easy, and his therapist told him it might never be, but that was okay. Trauma wasn’t something that could be fixed or erased, it had to be worked with and through. Jack knew this, of course he did, but it didn’t make it less frustrating.

Though, maybe most important of all was his relationship with Bitty. 

It had been hard, even in those first few days after they talked. Jack had been quiet still but he would kiss the top of Bitty’s head when he was going to work (Bitty had to be up early to help Tater most days) or when he got home. And at night, he would hold Bitty close, kiss his cheek and drift off to sleep. Jack had been sleeping on his side for months, and now that they were cuddling again at night they had to relearn it. It wasn’t as easy as falling back into it despite how much they both wanted it to be. They had trouble sleeping the first few nights, both waking up at odd hours because of a stray leg or arm or a lack of blankets. It was just another thing for them to work through. Another thing for Jack to sometimes feel guilty about. 

However slowly their progress seemed, it was progress. This was marked in small changes that may have seemed insignificant to an outsider but spoke volumes for them. The biggest of which was about two weeks after their discussion when Bitty recorded his first baking video since the accident. It wasn’t anything over the top or grand, in fact, he was revisiting apple pie. Comfortable, familiar. It reminded him of home, and since it had been one of the first recipes to be covered on his channel. it felt like it was time to revisit it.

“Hi, y’all!” He grinned at the camera. “Gosh, it’s been forever since I saw you last. I appreciate all your well wishes, and I’m so sorry I haven’t been around! But I’m hoping to be more active again-” In the middle of a take (that had been going very well, thank you very much), Jack walked into the kitchen. He had told Bitty when he’d left that morning that he was going to be working out and wouldn’t be home for quite a while. 

“Hey, bud, the power went out and-” Focused on the mail in his hands, Jack was unaware Bitty was filming until he looked up. It took a moment for him to process what was going on, and when it finally entered his brain, his eyes went wide and immediately trained on the camera, “Shit. I am so sorry, Bits. I didn’t know that you were-” he tilted his head, “Wait! You're recording!” 

Bitty’s stomach felt warm. Jack had realized what a big deal this was to him, to both of them really. “I’ll edit this out,” he mused, leaning back against the counter. “Anything good in the mail?” 

“Bills, mostly.” He tossed the pile in the bowl they had in the front hall, right next to their key bowl. Lardo had made both of them, so obviously they were both beautiful. "Though we did get another 'random package, just because we care' from Maman." Jack gestured vaguely toward the door, where the small package was resting. This one wasn't as big as some of the ones in the past had been. Seeing it made Bitty smile warmly; knowing that they had people in their corner no matter what, was such a good feeling.

"That's way better than bills. Being an adult sucks." Bitty reached up and turned off the camera for the time being. This felt more important even though it was just a regular conversation, “You said the power went out?” 

Jack nodded, moving to pull his protein powder from the cabinet. They talked idly for a while about nothing in particular, like they had before all of this. It was normal, and it was good. As Jack made his shake, Bitty told him about the video he was going to make. 

Before taking a sip of his shake, Jack pressed a kiss to the top of Bitty’s head, “I’m proud of you, bud,” he murmured. 

Bitty lifted his head to look at Jack, and without warning, surged up, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. Four months. It had been four months since they’d last kissed and it made Jack dizzy. When Bitty dropped back onto his heels, Jack followed so they could kiss again. They were lazy kisses, just a touch desperate, and _perfect_. They were so perfect. 

When they parted, Jack said, “I love you” at the same time Bitty said, “I miss you.” 

They stared at each other for a long time in comfortable, loving silence before Jack pressed a kiss to Bitty’s cheek, “I need to shower.” 

“You do. You stink,” Bitty smiled softly, taking a step back from Jack. “I love you too,” he added after a beat of silence. 

Jack grinned and stooped down to kiss Bitty’s cheek, then left to finish his shake and shower. It was a good day, and he was feeling lighter than he had in a very long time. Bitty watched him go, then restarted his video. The next take was even better than the first, and that was probably because he felt like he was walking on air. 

Despite the progress Jack was making, some days were still bad. Sometimes he refused to get out of bed, or wouldn’t talk to Bitty (well, not just Bitty. He wouldn't talk to anyone on those days). They weren't as frequent or as bad they once had been, because even when Jack was at his worst, he’d try to have a conversation, or he still got up and did something, even if it was just getting a granola bar. Bitty understood, of course he did. 

After a particularly hard day, where Jack luckily had the day off, Bitty padded into their room and set a cup of water on the nightstand, then pressed a kiss to Jack’s temple. “Let me know if you need anything, sweetpea,” he whispered into the quiet air, running a light hand through Jack’s hair. Jack was so lucky to have Bitty as his partner. He reached out, gently stilling Bitty’s hand for a moment, “Thank you,” he whispered. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” Bitty brought Jack’s hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles one at a time, “Tater and I will be in the living room. If you’re feeling up to it, you’re welcome to join us.” 

Usually, Jack wouldn’t. He’d stay in bed all day until Bitty joined him there and they’d fall asleep but for some reason, that didn't seem like the right option this time. Bitty glanced up, confused for a moment by Jack's presence, even if he sat on the opposite end of the couch, away from Bitty and covered in a blanket. Confusion melted away to love, when, Jack shifted ever so slightly so their feet just barely touched in the middle of the couch. It may not have seemed like much, but to Bitty, it meant the world.

XXX

With everything that was going on, Bitty had somehow forgotten about hockey. He watched all of Jack’s games with Tater (they were doing well) but he seemed to have forgotten that at some point, the playoffs and the Stanley Cup finals would take place. That was, until the Falconers last game of the regular season. Jack and Tater had convinced Bitty that it would be good for Tater to get out and that the last game of the regular season was the perfect opportunity to do so.

“Is last regular season game. If Falconers lose, is all over, but if they win? Move on to playoffs.” 

Jack nodded a little, “It would be nice to have you there, Bits.”

Bitty agreed, he hadn’t gone to any games this season even though in seasons past he’d been to almost all their at home games. In the end, he was glad that he had gone because, against all odds, despite the accident and the fighting, the Falconers were going to the playoffs. After the game, Tater and Bitty went to the locker room. Tater was now using crutches more than the wheelchair (even though Bitty had told him he should keep using the wheelchair), making it easier to navigate the halls.

The locker room was full of life when they walked in. Everyone was celebrating, and even Jack was smiling. Bitty threw himself at Jack, who was fresh out of the shower with only a towel on around his waist. “Sweetpea!” He beamed. “I’m so proud of you! You did so well!” 

Jack’s arms found their way around Bitty’s middle, “Thank you, bud.” He pressed a kiss to his lips and Kent, who was in the middle of changing, twisted around to point an accusatory finger at the couple and shouted, “Fine!” 

Bitty laughed, flipping him off, “Oh, fuck off.” He rolled his eyes, but his smile was gentle and the words held no ill will. Kent laughed, “I don’t make the rules here.” 

It was odd to see them joking around with each other. Bitty was still in Jack’s arms, but his head was towards Kent, so he couldn’t see Jack’s furrowed eyebrows. It wasn’t bad, not really, just… something he never thought he’d have to deal with. Things with Kent were better. They were a lot better, actually. The two of them had sat down, had a long and civil talk where neither of them yelled or raised their voices. It was all very adult of them. Of course there was still some tension, but it wasn’t like it had been. They’d even had a talk with the team, where they’d apologized (Jack much more than Kent). 

“Jack?” Bitty asked, head tilted. “Honey, what’s the matter? Aren’t you… you’re happy, aren’t you?” He asked almost hesitantly. 

“Euh? Oh! Yes, yes, Bits, I’m- I’m happy,” he kissed his cheek. “Honestly. I was just thinking about you and Kent being friends now. He’s going to embarrass me.” 

“Damn straight,” Kent grinned. “Your secrets are _not_ safe with me.” 

Bitty’s head fell back as he laughed. It was such a beautiful sound, one that Jack hadn’t heard enough recently. Jack looked around the room. Tater was talking to Marty, Thirdy, and Poots, the latter two having come to the game as well, and Jack was fine. He had even spoken to Poots earlier without any issues. They’d just moved on to the playoffs, some of his team was with them, Bitty was in his arms, and Jack felt genuinely happy. 

XXX

They were the underdogs, and not by a little bit. Yes, they’d been projected to make it to the playoffs, but that didn’t mean their chances were good. All the sports commentators agreed that the Falconers’ story was a great one, one for the ages even, but that this was as far as it would go. They’d lose in the playoffs, and no one would say they didn’t do the absolute best they could. 

Only, that wasn’t good enough for them. 

Though the team had been thrown together in the worst of circumstances, they were all on the same page. Before their win to get them to the playoffs, it had just been a dream, something to aspire to, but now they were close. They could see it in front of them, and they’d get to it no matter the cost. 

Jack spiraled a little bit after the first round of the playoffs. It had all of a sudden hit him where he was, what they were doing, and it was too much too much _too much_. 

The first round they won in five games. After the last one, a particularly rough game that had them fighting until the buzzer, Jack came stumbling into the apartment. It was late, and Bitty was on the couch waiting for him to come home. When he saw Jack, Bitty thought for a second that he was drunk again and his heart skipped a beat in the worst way, but Jack looked at Bitty and his eyes were red with tears, not substance abuse, “Jack?” 

Jack wiped his eyes roughly, “It isn’t right. It’s not the s-same, Bits.” 

In a second, Bitty was across the room, a hand on Jack’s cheek, “What’s not right?” He started leading Jack backward, to the couch. “Talk to me.” 

“This. Hockey. Moving onto the next round. It’s not- I-I want my _team.”_ He sat down heavily on the couch, and Bitty climbed into his lap. 

“Is this okay?” He whispered. Instead of answering, Jack pulled him closer and buried his face into his neck. Bitty slowly ran his fingers through his hair, “I’m so sorry, Jack,” he whispered. “I can’t imagine what this is like.” 

Jack went quiet. He couldn’t really voice what he was feeling anyway, but Bitty seemed to get it. He just held his partner, trying to calm the shaking of his limbs and steady his breathing. Bitty whispered to him, talking about his day, the pie he was going to bake the next, how annoying Tater had been. That made Jack laugh, or at the very least, he blew air out of his nose and his lips quirked up in a small smile. Bitty counted that as a victory. Once Jack had calmed down, he pulled his head away from the safety of Bitty’s neck, “Thank you.” 

“Of course, Jack.” He cupped his cheek, running his thumb gently over the skin, “I know this isn’t how you expected the season to go. I know this isn’t what you wanted but- but I’m so proud of you. I’m so proud of how far you’ve come.” He rested their foreheads together, “You’re wonderful, Jack.” 

That felt like a lie. Like Bitty was only saying it to make him feel better but he looked so sincere, it couldn’t possibly have been. Bitty wouldn’t do that to him. He let out a long breath, “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me since the accident. I haven’t said that nearly enough. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I appreciate _you._ Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, sweetpea,” Bitty kissed the corner of Jack’s mouth. “Let’s head to bed. It’s late.” 

XXX

“The Aces are doing well,” Kent grumbled. He was shoved in the corner of the Zimmermann-Bittle couch, arms crossed over his chest. He was pouting, “Fuck the Aces.” 

Bitty put a beer in his hand, “You have to go back to them you know.” 

“I could break contract,” he argued. “But no, they already said they were getting rid of me.” He took a few long sips of his beer, “I don’t ‘fit their image’ anymore,” he rolled his eyes. “Whatever the fuck that means.”

Jack took the water Bitty gave him with a ‘thank you’ and a kiss to his cheek. He focused his attention on Kent, “It’s that bad?” 

“Before I came here it was- Scraps was the only person who was talking to me when I left.” He picked at the wrapper on the outside of his beer bottle, suddenly incapable of eye contact. “The team had gotten unbearable. I don’t know if you’d watched any of our games but it was… it was bad. They stopped protecting me on the ice, I hadn’t scored since before I came out.” His head tilted back against the couch, breathing slowly out of his mouth. They were between round two and three, and only had two nights of downtime before their next game. They were doing well, great even. No one had expected them to get so far. 

Jack muttered a string of French profanities into his cup as he took a drink. He shook his head, “They can’t do that, can they? I feel like they can’t do that.” 

“‘Course they can’t. But management won’t do shit and I’m not ready to come out publicly yet. At least… not without a reason, so I can’t go to the league. It’s fine. I don’t really want to go back anyway and… I’m glad my season has been here and not there. I’m not sure how I’d be doing if I was still there.” 

Bitty gave Tater a glass of water as well before sitting on the couch, on the opposite end as Kent. He knew hockey was a homophobic sport but listening to Kent’s experience made him sick to his stomach, and it made him appreciate the Falconers even more. “That’s awful, Kent. No one should have to deal with that.” 

Kent shrugged a shoulder but he didn’t answer with words, instead opting to take a sip of his beer. 

“You tell me their names. I kill them for you. Will never know it was me.” 

Kent laughed, “You and your bum leg? They’d have you made before you even left the building.” 

“Can walk now,” Tater argued. “Can not run, but running makes you look guilty.” 

Kent smiled a little bit, “I appreciate it.” 

Jack was leaning back against the chair they had in the corner, “Kenny, do you remember when I got in a fight with that one guy… what was his name?” 

“Chip,” Kent grinned. “I do remember though, he was talking mad shit.” 

Bitty leaned forward a little bit, “I need to hear about this.” 

“Well,” Kent started, “We were in the Q, obviously, at a party. I don’t even remember whose house it was-” 

“It wasn’t anyone’s house. It was that factory-” 

“Shit! Yeah. So, there was this other guy, I think he went to the high school with us, and he was just running his mouth. Stupid shit, really. I hardly remember what he was saying, honestly-” 

Jack nodded in agreement but didn’t interrupt the story. 

“Jack was starting to get pissed, but then Chip said something to me, and oh, boy.” He shook his head, “If looks could kill, that poor man would be dead. Jack started talking back, and then Chip pushed him. I don’t know if he realized Jack was a hockey player.” 

“It’s one of the only times I’ve fought. One punch and he was down for the count,” Jack smirked, looking incredibly proud of himself. 

Bitty hummed, “Impressive, but not as impressive as when you removed that whole football team from the Haus.” 

“Is nothing!” Tater shook his head. “I tell you about fights. Should grow up in Russia,” 

“Tell us about it then, Tater,” Jack smiled a little. He reached a hand out to Bitty, wanting him to sit on his lap. Bitty got up and did so, sitting sideways, legs thrown over the arm of the chair. He smiled lazily, pressing back against Jack's chest, effectively using him as a chair. Kent opened his mouth, probably to shout ‘fine’ but Jack glared and he shut up. 

“We have not enough time for me to tell you all of them! But one time, me and my friends were at park, I was maybe… fifteen. Man comes up to us asking for money. My friends are all very scared, he is very pushy but is small- B sized-” 

“Hey!” Bitty pouted a little. “I’m not small, Tater!” 

“Small to me. This man small, and I am sitting down. So I stand and he staring up at me and says ‘So sorry, have good day’ and leaves,” Tater grinned. “Is not really a fight, but is still funny story.” 

They fall into comfortable conversation after that. Kent can’t stay too late because they _did_ have games to prepare for, but, about an hour before he has to go, he gets 'the look'. The one Jack kknows spells trouble, “Let’s play a game! I’m thinking two truths and a lie.” 

“That’s a drinking game,” Bitty pointed out. “You were the only one of us drinking anything alcoholic and you finished that a while ago." 

“We’ll use water or something. It’s more the idea than the drinking part. For me anyway. At least right now,” he looked around at everyone, Tater was nodding enthusiastically. Jack asked what the rules would be, “I’m thinking everyone guesses and if the person guesses right, you have to drink but if they get it wrong, they have to. Seem fair?” 

“Mhm. Why don’t you start?” Bitty suggested, shifting a little to get more comfortable on Jack’s lap. He looked close to falling asleep. Kent leaned back a little more on the couch, contemplating a little bit. Jack pressed a kiss to Bitty’s temple, to which Bitty made a soft happy noise. 

“Ah ha!” Kent said suddenly. “I know. I have skinny-dipped, I have never smoked a joint in my life and…” He chewed his lip in thought, “I’ve had sex in a public place.” 

“Public place is too vague!” Bitty argued. “Most people have done that.” Jack’s cheeks flushed bright red and he took a few long sips of his water.

“Hm, fine. I’ve had sex in a public park.” 

Without hesitation, Jack said, “Last one isn’t true.” 

Bitty glanced back at Jack, then at Kent, like he was trying to figure something out. “I think that… the first one isn’t. The skinny dipping one.” 

“I go with second one! You seem to have smoked at least once,” Tater declared. 

Kent grinned, “Jack’s right. He’s the only one who doesn’t have to drink.” 

Bitty gasped and then pouted, “Ugh, fine. At least this is just juice.” He took a sip, glancing back at Jack who seemed to be trying to work the courage up to say something. After a moment, he finally got his vocal cords to work, “Idiot, you used one that we’ve done together. Isn’t that supposed not the point?” 

It took a second for Bitty to realize what Jack meant, then he gasped, “You’ve gone skinny dipping?!” He turned almost fully on his lap to poke an accusatory finger into Jack’s chest, “What? Where? When?” 

“Lake George, at my house,” Kent said casually. 

“I mean, Shitty and I also went once in the Pond but that isn’t what this is about.” Jack’s cheeks were pink. 

Bitty huffed and crossed his arms, “I feel so betrayed, Jack Zimmermann! How could you have kept this from me!” 

“Jack has many secrets, am sure this is only the start,” Tater grinned. He then decided he was the next person to go. In comparison to Kent's Tater's were all mild, and, afer he was done, Bitty went. His were totally clean. One was ‘once I left a pie in the oven for an hour too long’, which was actually true. No one believed him though, so he had to ask his Mama to send a picture of his poor pie, burnt to a crisp. He had gotten distracted by his mom, who had needed help in the garden because, as she said, ‘if you’re going to be cooking with _my_ garden, mister, you better _believe_ you’re gonna help with it'. Suffice to say, they had come inside to an extremely smokey house and a very sad looking apple pie. 

Finally, it was Jack’s turn. He hummed thoughtfully, “I have been arrested, I've been asked if someone could pay me to give me a blow job and I have never been on a boat.” 

Bitty blinked, “I’m sorry, what’s that middle one?” 

“Someone wanted to blow me and said they’d pay to do it,” Jack said straight-faced. 

Bitty stared at him, and Kent narrowed his eyes. “That one isn’t true,” he finally said. 

“I agree with rat!” 

“You two think he’s been arrested?” Bitty asked, shocked. There was no way, right? Jack had never been arrested, he would know about that, wouldn’t he?

“I’m going with the first one.” 

“Ah, sorry, Bits,” Jack said, taking a sip of his water. 

Bitty gasped, “What? How- why- Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this? Does Shitty know?”

“Euh, no,” Jack shook his head. “Well, yes. He doesn't know why and I will never tell.” 

There was a moment of silence, during which Bitty mumbled, something that sounded like, ‘I’ll get you to tell me’ under his breath. Jack didn’t comment, but he was pretty sure that Bitty would probably get it somehow now that he knew. It wasn’t bad. He had been exhausted after practice once and had fallen asleep in a flower bed. The police thought that he was drunk and brought him back to the station where they found out he was just the overworked son of Bad Bob Zimmermann. But Jack thought it was funny to let people believe whatever they wanted. 

The game only lasted an hour. There was a lot of laughing, and at one point they were all in tears from laughing so hard at one of the stories Kent told from the Q. 

_“I shit you not. He was so fucking drunk we didn’t think he’d do it. He hated heights-”_

_“I still do!” Jack interjected._

_“He still does. So, he’s shit faced, and_ climbing up a fucking tree. _We all of a sudden realize he just isn’t there anymore, and we can’t find him. He’s gone. We start yelling, and then like a voice from the fucking heavens we hear him. He was so high up, man. I don’t know how he did it.”_

_“It’s important to note that I don’t remember a single detail from this night.”_

_“You were so fucking drunk. But, he’s in the tree, right? And we don’t know how the fuck to get him down. We’ve been trying to get him to come down for a few minutes now but he won’t. So, I’m like ‘we gotta call Alicia’.”_

_Bitty started laughing even harder, “You didn’t!”_

_“Oh, yeah, I did. You should’ve seen it. I don’t think I’ve seen Jack move so fast in his life. I mean, faster than you on ice, Eric. Alicia pulled up and shouted, ‘Jack Laurent Zimmermann you get your ass down here right now!’,” For this part he did a wonderful Alicia Zimmermann impression. “And holy shit, he came down. And then she took both him and me back to the house.”_

It was a good time. Kent had answered the phone when Scraps called, and they all had a round of two truths and a lie with him too. When they hung up, Jack had looked at Kent and said with full honesty, “I like him.” Kent blushed deeply and looked away for a moment, mumbling, “I wasn’t looking for your approval but… thanks. I do too.” When it was getting to be too late, Kent left even though he really didn’t want to. He wished he could have stayed a little longer, but with round three looming, he really needed to be on top of his game. He said goodnight and headed home. 

XXX 

They won the third round. It took seven games but they _won_ and they were going on to the Stanley Cup finals against none other than the _Aces_. Jack had allowed himself a little bit of emotion during the presser. The reporters had stopped asking him about the accident, but this time he brought it up himself when a reporter asked how he was feeling after the win. 

“Euh, I’d love to say good,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. “That isn’t to say it isn’t, uh, good. I’m so proud of how far we’ve come as a team since November-” He paused, swallowed thickly. He could do this, he could. “But it’s… I think we all know that it’s missing something. It isn’t the same. But we’re going to do our best in the finals. I believe in what we’ve built,” he looked over at Marty who confirmed the sentiment and continued with his own train of thought. 

They got a week. A week to practice and go over tapes and use Kent’s knowledge to the absolute best of their ability. He was helpful when it came to strategy, especially since he had a bone to pick with them, and no real reason to protect them. 

Jack was trying really hard not to slip into his ‘hockey robot’ mode despite only having three days before the first game in the finals. Things at home were normal again (despite the large Russian man that was still staying in their guest room), and he wouldn’t let anything get in the way of that. 

Tater was a good housemate, especially now that he could move around without a wheelchair or relying too much on crutches. When Bitty had started filming regularly again, Tater had appeared once or twice and was an instant hit, much to his amusement. Plus, he was excellent at doing the dishes (when he had a chair or stool to sit on, with Bitty’s insistence). Most of the time Jack came back to the house it smelled like baked goods again, and he noticed how much more alive the house felt. He hated to think that he had a hand in taking away Bitty’s light. He never wanted to be that person to him again. Jack felt like he had been holding Bitty back, and he never wanted that but… if they could survive that, then they could survive anything couldn't they? 

It was impulsive. It was so impulsive but the minute the words were in his brain they were out of his mouth in the next breath, “Let’s get married.” 

Bitty, curled up with his head in Jack’s lap as he watched _Hamilton_ for the hundredth time, raised an eyebrow, “We’re already engaged, Jack,” he said, “We _are_ going to get married.” 

“Euh, no, I don’t mean- I just meant- I want to, uh, get married... now. I don’t want to wait.” 

“Are you crazy?” Bitty was fully sitting up now, on his knees as he leveled Jack with an incredulous look, “ _Now?_ ” 

“Bits,” Jack took BItty’s hands in his own, “I love you so much. You’re so strong, you put up with me even when I don’t deserve it. I can’t imagine walking into a house where you aren’t there because you just… you make everything better. If we can make it through these past few months then we can make it through anything don’t you think?” It was the most coherent he’d been in a while and he wondered if it was because he knew this was exactly what he wanted. For someone who had anxiety to the extreme, he was incredibly impulsive. 

“Jack, I-” Bitty picked up his phone to look at the time. It was three in the afternoon. “The courthouse is open 'til five, sweetpea. Give me a half-hour.” 

Jack’s whole face lit up, and he leaned over to kiss Bitty deeply, “I love you. I love you so much, Bits. I can’t wait to call you my husband.” Bitty kissed back for a moment before sliding off the couch, “You need to get ready too, come on,” he gently took Jack’s hand and led him to the bedroom. “Our parents are going to be so mad at us.” 

“We can have another ceremony later,” Jack said. He was grateful for hockey right then because it meant he had a lot of nice suits to choose from. Bitty did too because he had done interviews after his cookbook had come out. They talked about which ones they should wear, and in the end, Bitty picked out both his and Jack’s. For Jack, it was a nice charcoal suit with the same tie he wore to his own graduation, and for Bitty it was a black suit with a red bowtie. He fixed his hair quickly before they both stood in the mirror together. 

“You’re so handsome, sweetpea,” Bitty said, meeting Jack’s eyes in the mirror. Jack smiled, a light blush dusting his cheeks, “Nothing compared to you.” He leaned down and kissed his temple, “Ready to go?” 

Bitty made an affirmative noise, but pulled Jack back to the mirror to take a quick selfie. They found Tater in the kitchen, told him they’d be back in a few hours, and then left. They didn’t have rings, they hadn’t told their parents but it didn’t matter because they were getting married. To _each_ _other_. 

Jack drove them, and Bitty chattered the whole time. He wasn’t nervous, not really… well, maybe a little bit he was. This wasn’t what he had envisioned when he thought about his wedding, but it was them. They never were ones to plan that far in advance (see Jack kissing Bitty without coming out to him first, followed by a surprise proposal). They’d already been engaged for years without making any real plans to get married… maybe their parents expected this. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if they did. 

On the way there he took as many pictures as he could. Of Jack, of the weather, of the people going about their daily actions, of the buildings zooming by his window outside. He wanted to remember every detail of the day. It was warm and sunny, absolutely perfect. In what felt like no time at all, they were parking at the courthouse. “Ready?” Jack asked as he put the car in park. 

“Absolutely, I am,” Bitty kissed Jack’s cheek and climbed out of the car. 

They were lucky. They were still taking appointments, and they weren’t going to have to wait long at all. Bitty leaned over, pressing another kiss to Jack’s temple, “Honey, I love you so much.” 

“I love you too, bud,” he whispered, pressing their lips together. 

Soon it was their time, and they were called into a room. The courthouse was old, at least, and the room was beautifully furnished. On their way in, Bitty stopped a young woman, who looked like the custodian and asked her to take pictures, which she gladly did. 

The ceremony was short. They stood in front of the man who was appointed to marry them, holding hands and grinning like idiots. The man cleared his throat, “Do you, Jack Zimmermann take Eric Bittle to be your husband?” 

Jack beamed, “I do.” 

“Do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect him, forsaking all others and holding onto him only?” 

“I do.” He squeezed Bitty’s hands gently. 

The man repeated the same questions with Bitty, who eagerly said, “I do!” Then he blushed, “Oh, I’m so sorry, that was so loud.” 

Jack grinned at him. “You’re adorable,” he breathed out. 

Bitty laughed, glancing away for only a second, before their attention was drawn back to the man, “Then, with the power given to me by the State of Rhode Island, I do pronounce you married.” 

Jack pulled Bitty close, stooping down to kiss him gently. “I love you. I love you so much,” he murmured against Bitty’s lips. 

Bitty had his arms wrapped around Jack’s neck. He closed his eyes, tipping his head forward to rest on Jack’s collar bone. “I love you too, Jack. Through sickness and in health.” 

When they pulled apart, the woman handed Bitty his phone, and Jack tried to pay her for her time. She refused the money, so he vowed to find out who she was and pay her back some other way. He even made a note in his phone to remember. 

Even though they were walking, Bitty scrolled through the pictures. His grin had yet to fade. “They look good, Jack.” He shifted his smile from the phone to Jack, who swore he’d never seen a sight so beautiful, “We should send the one of us kissing to our parents, shouldn’t we?” 

Jack moved his thoughts away from how handsome his husband’s (his _husband’s!)_ smile was, and actually thought about his parents. “The group chat?” 

“Mhm. They’ll be so upset if we send it to them one at a time.” 

Bitty pulled up the group chat they had with all four parents, picked a couple of the best pictures, and sent them to their parents. Almost immediately their phones started to ring.

It was almost at the same time too. Bitty answered his phone to his mother, “Eric Richard Bittle!” and Jack answered his- “Jack Laurent Zimmermann!” 

Bitty chuckled softly, pressing into Jack’s side as they strolled through the park, having delayed the drive back home, “Hello to you too, Mama!” 

“Did you and Jack go and get married?!” Bitty had been worried at first that maybe she’d be angry at them for going ahead with this when they weren't around, but she didn’t sound angry at all. “Yeah, we did!” 

“Oh, I’m so happy for you!” She gushed, and a warmth settled in Bitty’s stomach. 

“Thank you. It was spur of the moment! And-” 

“You know Alicia and I were just talking about you two getting married and-” She hesitated a second, something in her tone wasn’t as warm as it had been. Bitty wondered if they’d been thinking they wouldn’t get married at all. He hated that. But she continued, “And, well, we wondered if this was in your future!” 

Bitty was about to say something back to her, when beside him, Jack said, “Maman! You made _bets_?!” 

Tilting his head back, Bitty let out a loud laugh. Of course they had, he wondered who won it but something told him that it was Bob. They talked for a few minutes longer, walking down the paved path hand-in-hand, enjoying the weather. At one point they’d even switched phones to let the other speak with their new in-laws. It was a wonderful conversation, and yes, Bitty was correct. Bob had won the bet. 

“I know my boys!” He had said enthusiastically. 

Bitty loved them all so much.

After talking to their parents, they sent the picture to their Shaking My Head group chat. They weren’t going to tell many people, and they definitely weren’t telling the Falconers until after the finals. The couple knew their teammates would lose their shit, but at least do so in a private way. 

For the next several hours, their SMH group chat was pure chaos. 

Lardo

_Not to be that person but like, are you fucking married?_

Shitty

_YOU BEAUTIFUL MOTHERFUCKERS I CANT BELIEVE YOU ELOPED_

Chowder

_!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

Nursey 

_Yo congrats_

Ransom

_WE MISSED IT WE MSSED THE WEDDING I CANT BELIEVE IT_

Holster

_We didn’t miss it THEY DIDNT INVITE US what did we do wrong??? Are you mad at us????_

Jack and Bitty ignored it for a while, quite content to focus on themselves and their post-wedding bliss. They didn’t get right in their car either after the small park, wanting to walk around for a little while more, maybe even duck into a jewelry store if they passed one, though that wasn’t on their list of priorities. While they didn’t find a place to get rings, they did find a restaurant that had pride flags hanging out over the street. Jack stopped Bitty, “Bud, hold on, I want to-” He looked around, face twisting a little. “I wish I had my camera.” 

“You want to take a picture?” Bitty asked. 

“Of us, yes.” 

“You couldn’t use your camera for that even if you had it.”

“Hm? Oh. Haha.” He smiled, “Do you think someone will take our picture under the flag?” 

“I’m sure they would,” Bitty nodded a little. They asked someone who was walking by, which, admittedly, was a little risky, but the woman recognized Jack and agreed. They took one with Jack’s hand snaked around Bitty’s waist, but the next one, Jack pulled Bitty close and pressed a kiss to his lips. Bitty grinned against his lips, wrapping his arms around his neck. When they pulled apart the woman was also smiling, “You two are so sweet.” She handed Bitty’s phone back, “Tell me if you like them.” 

They scrolled through them. Bitty’s favorite was one where they were pressed close, only having just pulled away from the kiss but were both grinning. Their eyes were closed, foreheads pressed together with the flag over their heads. Jack’s favorite was the one where they were kissing, his hands were on Bitty’s waist and Bitty was bent back just a little bit, arms around Jack’s neck. 

Bitty beamed, “They’re perfect! Thank you so much!” 

Jack thanked her as well, and she hesitantly asked for an autograph, which he happily gave her. He also offered to send a jersey to her house. Bitty was pretty sure she was smiling more than he was, which was sweet. She gave him her address, and he set everything up right then. They parted ways, the woman giving them both a hug. 

After that, they finally made their way back to the car. On the drive Bitty responded to their friends, even sending the two pictures they had liked the most. Lardo promised to make them art to compliment them, which Bitty gladly accepted. 

Jack was better in the car now. He still had to force himself to get into the car sometimes but he was okay most of the time. He glanced at Bitty for a split second, and his heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. They were married. Bitty who was beautiful, strong, smart, breathtaking. He reached over, lacing their fingers together. “I love you, bud,” he murmured. “I love you so much.” 

Bitty shifted a little so he could kiss Jack’s cheek, “I love you too, sweetpea.” 

XXX

Jack left only a couple of days later. The first two games were in Vegas, and it always sucked to start without home-ice advantage, but they had Parse who was used to the stadium at least. In the end that didn’t help them at all. They lost the first two games, and then they went back to Providence. Jack was almost positive they would have a chance once they got home but then they were losing their third game too. 

The games were brutal. The Aces had always been an aggressive team but they had something against Parse, and something against Jack too, for that matter. They would slam them into the boards and hiss slurs into their ears. The only one who seemed to be playing a clean game was none other than Scraps. 

Both he and Kent agreed that it was best they wait until after the finals to see each other in any capacity outside of hockey, Kent didn’t want a story, Scraps didn’t want to deal with his team (even if they had yet to make any sort of progress towards ‘more than friends’). Plus, they had the whole ‘Stanley Cup finals’ thing going on. No big deal, or anything. They continued to text and call, but that was it. Being so close but not being able to talk was making Kent’s skin itch, but he wanted to win. He wanted to prove the Aces horribly, horribly wrong. 

Game four was at Providence again. It was a hard game, but the Falconers won. Tater and Bitty had gone to both of the home games, and Tater, the idiot, had hurt his leg jumping up to cheer for them. He was also wearing a Zimmermann jersey, which he had bought the week before the playoffs and forced Jack to sign. 

“You can just wear your own jersey,” Jack argued. 

“Am not player,” he shook his head. “Will wear your jersey, bring you good luck.” 

Bitty had cried when they won the fourth game. He was more of a mess than Jack was, and when Jack got home that night after the presser, Bitty had cried again. He told him over and over how proud he was, how well he was doing. 

Then, they went back to Vegas for the next two games, which the Falconers won. When the buzzer went off on the sixth game, Jack cried, just a little bit. He wasn’t going to allow himself to relax that much, though. There was one more game, winner takes it all and it was going to be at Providence. He thought it would be perfect. To win at home after everything everyone had been through. 

On the day of the final game, he was oddly calm. In fact, the whole team seemed calm. They wanted the win, they wanted it more than they could properly express but… it was okay if they didn’t win because they’d already done more than anyone thought they would. Certainly more than Jack thought they were capable of. After everything, the accident, the fighting, the homophobia, they still managed to make it all the way to game seven. The tiebreaker. 

He stood in front of his team, this mismatched group of people that he had come to care so deeply about. They somehow had come to care about him too. He wasn’t sure how that had happened, he hadn’t been very good to them but- he took a slow breath, “I’m, euh, not good at these haha.” 

“We know!” Snowy shouted, a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“Oh, fuck off,” Jack chuckled, the tension now broken. “I’m proud to call y’all-” 

A chorus of ‘y’all’s started up, and Jack laughed, “Let me speak! We don’t have a lot of time. I’ve been privileged to get to know each of you over these past few months,” his eyes darted around the room. “I’m not sure how you all put up with me but… I’m glad you did. I’m proud to call you my teammates, even if it’s just for one more game.” It felt like the end of his speech, so they started hitting their sticks against the floor. Jack yelled over the top of them, “Now let’s kick the Aces’ ass!” They cheered and then headed out onto the ice.

Everyone was there. All their family, friends, and the members of the Falconers who could attend, which was almost everyone. There were a few members who had gone on vacation when they found out the Falconers had made it to the finals. It wasn’t out of spite, it was just a little painful for them, and Jack could understand that. But looking up at the crowd, seeing his parents, Bitty, Tater, Poots, Thirdy and everyone else made him want to push harder, go the extra mile. He would do whatever it took to get the win. 

He remembered what Tater had said only a few days after the accident. He hadn’t thought then that they would win a single game that season. This was a welcome turn of events. 

Skating out onto the ice felt surreal. Jack was so separated from what was going on around him, focused only on the puck, on the game. 

The crowd was deafening as the puck dropped and the game started. 

It was the worst game to date. The Aces were out for blood, furious that they had lost their lead. Jack wished that they were trying too hard, that they were making more mistakes but on top of their aggression, they were nearly flawless. Going into the third, it was tied zero/zero. The tension in the stadium was thick. The fans were silent, holding their collective breaths. 

Time was running out. There were only a few seconds, the game was still tied at zero. Jack would be damned if they let it get to overtime. Parse had the puck, they glanced at each other and that one look held everything that they needed to know. The puck was passed, Jack lined up his shot took it and- 

So much happened in such a short amount of time. The buzzer rang out a split second after the puck went into the net. 

_The puck went in._

If Jack thought the crowd was loud before he was a fool. They were on their feet, screaming at the top of their lungs, waving flags and jumping. The world spun around Jack. They’d won. They’d won. They’d- He was quickly swarmed by his teammates, who were really the only thing keeping him up as he sobbed. He clung onto them, trying to keep his footing. They were screaming and crying and congratulating him on his goal. 

It was surreal, it was too much. He was so happy, he was overwhelmed. After a moment, he pulled away to look up in the stands, and he pointed up at his team, who were on their feet. Tater looked like he was screaming, Jack was sure he could hear Ransom and Holster above it all. Even from all the way down on the ice, he could see Bitty crying and he just wanted to hug him close and tell him he loved him. But they weren’t allowed on the ice yet, not before they shook hands and were given the Cup. 

Everyone got their turn with the cup in front of the cameras, they took a group picture, and then finally, finally friends and family were allowed out onto the ice. Bitty threw himself into his arms, and Jack caught him easily, “Sweetpea! You did it! That goal was amazing!” He kissed him hard, legs wrapped around his waist. “My three-time Stanley Cup champion.” He practically purred against his lips. Jack grinned, and was about to respond but was interrupted by all his friends jostling him as they descended onto him for a group hug. It was perfect.

XXX

Kent’s family didn’t care so much what Kent did these days, so they were watching from home. He still had someone there for him though, even if that someone was on the opposite team. Most of the Aces had already left the ice so finding Scraps’ black and gold among all the blue was fairly easy. He skated up to him, trying and failing to hide his grin. Scraps didn’t look upset at the loss, in fact, he matched Kent’s own expression, “Another one, huh? At this point, they might as well put you into the hall of fame now.” 

Kent scoffed, “I’m not retiring for a long time, thank you very much.” They skated close to each other, maybe just a little too close but Kent was high on happiness and adrenaline and didn’t care at all, “Jay, I- we’re... having a party at Jack’s… do you want to come?” 

Scraps laughed, “Fucking hell, Kent! That’s what you ask me? I thought you were going to like, kiss me or ask me on a date or-” 

Kent blinked rapidly, “Do- do you want that? Because I- I would like that too and-” 

Jay pressed a quick kiss to Kent’s cheek, “I’ll wait for you after all of this clears up.” 

Kent’s cheeks were pink, “I-I-I-” 

Jay tilted his head for a moment before his eyes widened, “Oh! Oh god! Kent, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t even-! Oh god, I-I don’t even know if you want to come out I-!” 

Kent cut him off with a short, chaste kiss. When they pulled apart, Jack barrelled into his side, grinning like a lunatic. His anxious, overwhelmed energy had worn off, being replaced by euphoria. He was a _fucking_ Stanley Cup Champion again, “Take your PDA off the ice!” He shouted, obviously teasing. 

“Fuck off you dick!” Kent pushed back with a smile. Scraps had migrated over to Bitty to talk softly to him, their eyes on their partners… wait. Was Jay Kent’s partner? Kent certainly _thought_ that he was. 

Jack tugged Kent away, wanting to get a picture with all the members of the team; past, present, players who were set to return for the next season and those whose time on the Falconer was up. As far as Jack was concerned, they’d all won this cup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm to get emotional. I'M NOT. Next week is it, y'all. The epilogue will get posted next Saturday and then this crazy ride will be over. I'm saying thank you for all your support now (and I'll say it again next week) because it really just means so, so much. I can't believe this is almost over. I hope you enjoyed the wrap up to our boys' story, lord knowns they needed a happy ending.


	10. Happily Ever After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, fuck. This is it, okay? This is the last chapter and wow. I hope you enjoy it because I've fucking enjoyed writing this for you.

**Two Years Later**

Kent tapped his fingers on the counter absent-mindedly, in rhythm with that one Brittany song he’d had stuck in his head all morning. Jay would be coming to Providence for the off-season soon and he had big plans, life-altering ones, even. 

“You’re makin’ me anxious, Kent, penny for your thoughts?” Bitty asked as he floated around the kitchen to bake a welcome back to the ‘superior hockey team city’. Bitty may have made it a point to do that whenever he could for Jay. Call it positive reinforcement, but Providence was just better than Boston by a long shot, in Bitty’s completely unbiased opinion (minus his wonderful, beautiful friend who called Boston home, but they practically lived in Providence anyway). It was a beautiful, sunny afternoon, perfect for laying around inside or going for a run like Jack, who never fucking took a break, was currently doing. The Falconers had been knocked out of the playoffs in round one, the Bruins in three. Jay would be wrapping up things in Boston before hopping in the car to drive to Providence. Things had changed so much since the cup win. Kent and Jay were traded, Kent permanently on the Falcs and Jay, mercifully, going to the Bruins. A team close enough to really make their relationship work. 

“I was just- I think that I’m going to-” 

Both men looked up as Jack strode into the apartment. He kissed Bitty’s cowlick before grabbing the things for his protein shake. “You’re looking uncharacteristically serious,” he directed at Kent. 

“Hm, yeah. I’m going to propose to Jay, I think.” 

Bitty’s head snapped up and he gasped, “No! Really! Kent- That’s amazing!” 

“When? Where? Can I take pictures for you?” Jack followed up. 

Kent couldn’t stop the smile that wormed its way onto his face, not that he really wanted to. The three of them spent a lot of time together now, he would even consider them to be his best friends (behind Jay, of course). Tater, too. After the cup win, he’d re-met the couple's friends from Samwell in a more permanent way, and Jack told them their history. The only one who seemed a little leery at first was Shitty, but Jack had warned Parse about that. They were cool now, had even had a very length and good conversation about weed (Parse had, after their first never have I ever game, gotten high, just to see what it was like. He still wasn’t sure if he liked it, but Shitty was invested, and he could have a conversation) that had really turned the tides of their relationship. 

“I, uh- don’t know? I’m still figuring it out, okay? He won’t even be here for another day and then I want him to get settled before I go and do anything stupid.” 

“Stupid? No, this isn’t stupid, Kenny. This is the best decision you’ve ever made.” 

“A better one than boning your dumb ass, that’s for sure.” 

“Remind me to never be supportive again,” Jack deadpanned as he finished assembling his protein shake and took a long sip of it. “I’m serious about the pictures though. Lards took ours from where she was hiding behind the stands.” 

“Oh, so that’s why all your pictures have a weird stalker-y vibe to them.” 

“Shut up,” Jack shoulder checked Kent on his way to the bedroom. He announced he was taking a shower, and so would be a while. Bitty watched him go, love etched on every single one of his features. Kent had come into their lives at, he assumed, the lowest point of Bitty’s life (he still wasn’t sure where the trauma of the accident ranked in Jack’s mind, but that wasn’t important) and had the privilege of watching him heal, watching them both heal. Then, he hadn’t known, hadn’t realized how bad Eric was. Now he’d gained weight, face had filled out again and his cheeks were always rosy. There was this warmth that always radiated from his person in waves. It was alluring, and it made everyone in the same room feel loved. Kent couldn’t put his finger on exactly when things had gotten better, he realized it at the Cup party, but things had been slowly getting better before that. 

Obviously, they’d gone and gotten married without telling anyone. 

“You’re gross,” Kent, who wanted the conversation away from him and Jay, told Bitty. 

Bitty sputtered, “I- I’m sorry what? Keep runnin’ your mouth like that and you won’t get any of these cookies I’m bakin’.” 

“I stand by what I said. The way you look at Jack.” 

“The way that I look at- boy, have you ever seen the way _you_ look at Jay? Because I’ve seen the pictures of my lookin’ at Jack, we do have pictures from the wedding.” 

“I haven’t, but I know I don’t look like-” 

Bitty stopped mixing whatever he was working on (Kent didn’t always pay attention), and pulled his phone out of his pocket, “Jack’s got better pictures but I do have a few- ah-ha! Here!” He shoved the phone into Kent’s hands. On it was a picture of Kent and Jay from a trip Jay had taken right before the playoffs had begun; they’d all four gone to the beach (even though it had been cold) before heading their separate ways for the afternoon. This was taken at the beach, their backs to the camera as they faced the ocean, fingers laced tightly in between them. Or well, Jay was facing the ocean, and Kent was looking at Jay with heart eyes. 

“Ah, fuck that. You’re worse” 

“Mhm,” Bitty took his phone back. “I never sent that one?” 

“Don’t think so. Can you?” 

“‘Course.” 

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, Bitty humming as he puttered around the kitchen. Kent answered Jay whenever he texted, but otherwise just enjoyed the atmosphere. It was relaxed, Bitty so happy he was practically glowing and Kent able to vibe without filling up the silence. Kent honestly couldn’t believe how far they’d all come that this kind of afternoon wasn’t an anomaly. 

XXX

Kent hadn’t jumped into Jay’s arms when he walked into the house, not a chance. No way. And anyone who told you differently was a dirty, dirty liar. Only, he almost certainly had, and Bitty maybe _possibly_ had photographic evidence of it, despite not even being there when Jay arrived. Kent didn’t doubt Bitty had his ways. But Kent had been impatiently waiting for Jay’s arrival for hours, in his defense. In an effort to keep occupied, Kent had cleaned the whole house twice, tried to read for a bit, failed at that, and as a last attempt tried watching a new tv show Bitty wouldn’t stop going on about, which couldn’t hold his attention. It was a lot of pacing until he heard the scraping of the key in the lock before Jay pushed his way in, suitcase dragging behind him, duffle bag slung over a shoulder. 

“You’re home!” was the only warning Jay got before his arms were full of Kent, who wrapped his legs around Jay’s waist to keep himself from falling. Jay caught him easily (almost like it wasn’t the first time this had happened). “Hey, kitten.” Jay walked a few feet into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind himself to stop Kit from running out, but still keeping his hold on Kent’s waist. 

Kent buried his face in the crook of Jay’s neck. “Hey,” he mumbled against his skin. 

“You saw me only a few days ago, sunshine.” 

“Been a week.” 

“We’ve gone longer.” 

“Sounds like you don’t wanna be here, tortellini.” 

“Never,” Jay set Kent down, leaning in so he could kiss him. Kent instantly missed the contact. “Got any plans?” 

“Nah, just helping you get settled,” Kent snatched the duffle bag from his shoulder. “Thought we could get take out, and Bitty made cookies for dessert… and a pie.” As he spoke, he walked further into the apartment, glancing behind his shoulder every few steps to flash a smile, Jay following him with the suitcase, and returning the smile each time. 

Kent hadn’t moved after that first season with the Falconers. There was no need since the apartment was in a good location and was huge. One change though, was that the apartment actually started to look like a real home. He had been too nervous to put up decorations at first, afraid he’d lose everything again, but that fear had finally begun to subside. In the living room, there were pictures of him and Jay, his family, and, of course, from his Stanley Cup wins. There were even little portraits of Kit hung up. His proudest photo, by far though, was the one with the Falcs. That one had meant something. More than just trying to prove something to himself or the world. 

But despite how homey this new apartment was, he hoped to be moving out soon. Boston wasn’t too far from Providence, close enough that getting an apartment, or even a house, in the middle of the cities would still be an acceptable commute. And there was a certain hockey boy that Kent was hoping would be interested in doing something like that with him. 

They unpacked Jay’s things, adding what he’d brought to the items that were already there. The conversation was light and easy, and only a handful of times did they get distracted by touching or kissing. And only once did Kent push Jay onto the bed, settle himself on the other’s hips and- 

“You mother fucker! I can not _believe_ you just hit me with a fucking pillow!” 

Jay laughed maniacally, using his hips to push Kent off. “I’m trying to _unpack_ and you’re distracting me!” 

Kent grabbed the pillow and swung back at Jay, who blocked it with his forearm. “I’m going to get you back, I swear to go-” 

Running to the other side of the bed, Jay scooped up one of the other pillows and held it up, ready to swing at Kent, “Sunshine-” 

“Don’t sunshine me! You started this, bucatini!” 

Of the three main pet names Jay had for Kent, sunshine was by far their favorite. Though if _pressed,_ Kent also was quite fond of kitten. When they were just starting to get their footing from transitioning from best friends to best _everythings_ , in that first offseason after the cup win, they’d spent the whole summer trying to think of the most ridiculous pet names for each other. Kent had settled on babe and varying pasta types for Jay, a natural shift from ‘dude’ that both wholly loved and embraced. For Kent, however, sunshine had started as a joke, that sorta just stuck (though the pasta types were a joke too, they actually stayed a joke and never changed to being quite as heartfelt). 

XXX

_Kent had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, his hair sticking up in all directions and absolutely grumbly. He was standing in the kitchen, trying not to swear at the coffee machine and leaning over hunched over when Jay found him. “Well aren’t you a ray of light this morning, sunshine.” Jay leaned over to wrap himself around Kent to kiss his cheek before moving around the kitchen to find something to cook._

_Kent blushed, more from Jay’s words than the kiss even, which had become a staple in their domestic morning routine. He hadn’t meant to! Jay was joking and being a pain in his ass, but Kent honestly liked ‘sunshine’ more than he probably should’ve. Jay, who was standing in the fridge and rustling around absentmindedly, paused and turned back around when he realized Kent still hadn’t unfrozen. “Wait, sunshine? Really, that’s the one?”_

_Kent crossed his arms and tried to put on his best emotionless hockey face. The effect was only somewhat (definitely) ruined by his bedhead, threadbare t-shirt that was definitely Jay’s, and blush that was only deepening. “No. Maybe- I dunno.” He crossed his arms across his middle, feeling vulnerable despite having told Jay way more embarrassing information in the past._

_“Hm, well, I’ll try it out for a while, see how it goes.” Jay closed the fridge, crossing the room to wrap Kent up in a hug; Kent instantly stuck his head into Jay’s neck._

_And well, it had stuck, quite thoroughly._

XXX

“You’re right- I didn’t think this through.” Jay smiled, his cheeks starting to ache with how much he was smiling but he couldn’t help it. 

“How about we both put the pillows down? On the count of three. One… two… three.” 

Indeed, both men set the pillows down on three, but Jay lunged across the bed and wrapped his arms around Kent, tugging him down onto the bed. They were laughing, and Kent squirmed, trying to get out of his hold but failing horribly. “Fine! Fuck! You win!” Jay had managed to pin Kent below him, Kent’s arms held above his head. “Ha!” With Kent happily subdued below him, Jay leaned down to press a loving kiss to Kent’s cheek, nose, and forehead before finally leaning down to his lips (because Kent started whining). 

Kent hummed quietly, and when Jay pulled away he murmured, “Never mind, I definitely won.” 

They made plans later that night to go to ‘their spots’; the tiny coffee shop and the overlook that Kent had taken them to that first time Jay had visited Providence. Kent made sure to text Jack the details. 

XXX

Kent was full of nervous energy. It was lit under his skin and every touch from Jay made him crackle with electricity and it was _perfect_. Kent let himself get lost in the moments, and when they sat at the coffee shop, tucked away from prying eyes, and Jay moaned softly at the first sip of coffee before licking some leftover foam from his lip, Kent was immensely grateful for every single decision that had brought him to that exact moment in time; all the good and even all the bad. 

They set out to the overlook from the coffee shop, hand in hand. Kent couldn’t stop looking at Jay, from the way his hair swooped in front of his eyes, or how when he got excited his hands flailed around, even if one of them was holding onto Kent’s. He was perfect. 

Kent loved him so much. 

When they started their hike, Kent let Jay go first and lead the way. “You’re not slick, sunshine. I know why, you pervert,” Jay grinned. 

“What if I told you the first time we did this, I stared at your ass the whole time?” 

“I’d say it’s a good thing because I also stared at your ass every opportunity I got.” 

“Pfft, and I’m the pervert, pervert.” 

Once they got to the top, a little out of breath, Kent slid his hand into Jay’s. Jay squeezed on reflex, “You remember the first time we came up here?” 

“How could I forget? I spent that whole trip in a gay panic because I felt like everything was so romantic but I didn’t know if you were straight. It was driving me insane.” Kent rested his head on Jay’s shoulder and sighed softly through his nose. 

“I did want to kiss you but- I don’t know. It didn’t seem right, being so far apart, unable to see each other. I didn’t want you to feel… obligated. And you’d only just come out and I didn’t want you to feel like I was pressuring you-” 

“It’s okay, I think things ended up pretty fucking okay, don’t you?” Kent tilted his head a little to look at Jay, and Jay leaned down to press their lips together, “I think it did. I’m pretty happy with how things are going.” 

Kent smiled, a lazy thing, a version of himself that only Jay had ever seen. They went quiet for a moment, looking down at the city, watching the people milling around like ants. “You make me happy,” Kent said, breaking the silence. “The happiest I’ve ever been.” He straightened, picking his head up from off of Jay’s shoulder, “You’re supportive, funny, understanding. The nicest man I’ve ever known. I knew it back then- I hoped you were going to be it for me-” 

“Sunshine-” 

Not letting go of Jay’s hand, Kent lowered himself down onto one knee, clearing his throat nervously, “I love you so much. You’re- you’re perfect to me. Every little thing about you and I-” Finally, he let go of his partner’s hand, if only to dig the slim silver band he’d had tucked safely in his pocket out. He held it towards Jay, hands only shaking a little as his eyes shined with tears and his heart burst with love and his face ached from smiling, “Will you marry me?” 

“Kent- fuck- I- _yes_ I’ll marry you!” Jay was crying, but he pulled Kent up so he could kiss him desperately. While they were pressed together, Kent slid the ring onto his finger. 

“I love you, sunshine.” 

“I love you too.”

Kent pulled away, just a little, and said into the open air, “I dunno where you are, Jack, but you’re good.” 

From behind him, there was a rustling noise and then Jack walked out from where he’d been behind some bushes, his eyes also glistening ( _‘no I wasn’t crying Bitty shush’)_. Jay took one look at him with leaves still stuck in his hair and a little dirt on his jeans and started laughing so hard tears slipped down his cheeks, “You’re fucking with me!” 

“Hey! Don’t laugh! He said he’d do it!” Kent grinned, glancing back at Jack. “Thank you.” 

“Sure thing, Kenny. I’ll see y’all at dinner in a few days. Bits is making chicken tenders! Congratulations!” Jack beamed, and when he passed, he patted them on the back, “Euh, bye!” 

“Y’all!” Kent yelled after him. As Jack started the hike back down, he flipped Kent off, laughing his ass off. 

Jay’s shoulders were still shaking with laughter, “I can’t believe- a fucking _bush._ ” 

“He wanted to do it so bad, babe, I couldn’t say no. He looked like a kicked puppy!” Kent laughed, leaning forward to rest his forehead on Jay’s chest. Jay leaned down to press a soft kiss to Kent’s hair, running his fingers through it a few times and just enjoying the sounds of nature.

After a few minutes more, they’d officially calmed down, and Jay looped his arms around Kent’s waist to keep him close. Absent-mindedly, he dragged a hand up and down his back, “So, when we get back to the apartment, can I give you the ring that I have in my t-shirt drawer?” 

Kent jerked back a little, looking up to lock eyes with his _fiancé_ , “You’ve got a ring?” 

“Sure do. I was waiting for the right moment, but looks like you beat me to it.” 

Kent laughed, head tilting back. The sun hitting him made him glow, “God, of course, you have one. Yeah, yes, I’d love to wear it.” 

XXX

“Stay here, kitten.” Jay steered Kent to the couch, pressed down on his shoulders until he sat, and then ran to the bedroom. Kent raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment on his behavior. Luckily, he wasn’t left in confusion for very long, as after only a moment, Jay came back in, sliding across the floor with his socks. Kent laughed, “Dork.” 

“You love it.” 

“Mhm.” 

Jay stood in front of Kent for a moment before sinking to his knees in front of him. His eyes were wide and full of sincerity, and Kent _knew_ what he was about to say, but the impulse to speak couldn’t be controlled, “I already like where this is going. You look beautiful on your knees.” 

“You little shit. Stop that! I’m trying to be _serious_!” Jay bumped Kent’s knee with his elbow. 

He laughed, “Yeah, yeah, I know. Sorry. I’ll stop.” 

“Fucking better-” Jay took a deep breath, looking at Kent through his lashes in a way that made the winger’s heart skip a beat, “Kent Parson, you are the light of my life. You’re my sunshine and my home and- I love you so much; with everything that I am. Will you spend the rest of your life with me?” 

Kent grinned, reached out to cup Jay’s cheeks in his hands, “Fuck yeah, I will.” He leaned down to press their lips together, but they were both smiling too much for it to be considered a real kiss. Neither of them cared though. Kent allowed his partner to pull away just enough to slide the ring onto his finger before he was tugging him into another kiss, one that lasted until they had to pull apart only because it wasn’t possible to exist solely on love and no oxygen 

“Fuck, babe,” Kent said chest heaving. “Ah, do you wanna-” 

“Bedroom?” 

“Mhm. Yup.” He jumped off the couch as Jay pushed himself up from the floor, though Kent didn’t give him any time to get his balance before he was dragging him in the direction of their bedroom. 

Jay laughed, “Easy there, Superman.” 

“Then hurry it up, Lois, I want to fuck my _fiancé_.” 

~~~

Bitty’s birthday was _technically_ weeks away, but Jack and Bitty had decided to celebrate early since they were planning on being away on the actual date. They were going on a two-week European cruise that started the week before May 5th, because they had been wanting to treat themselves and celebrate their marriage (marriage!) for a while and everything had finally come together. They still wanted to celebrate with their friends before they left though, so they asked everyone when the easiest date to get together was and the general consensus (from the google form and subsequent excel sheet Ransom had compiled) was before they left, not after. 

The party was at their house, and Bitty had promised Jack that he wouldn’t cook for the party, but not even an act of God could prevent him from baking. Jack didn’t even try to convince him otherwise having learned long ago to pick and choose his battles when it came to their (Bitty’s) kitchen. Having Bitty agree to take out was a win in itself. 

In the hours before the party, before most sane people were even awake, Bitty was starting his baking. For some reason sleep had eluded him; maybe it was excitement, maybe nerves. Jack was still asleep, so the music that was playing was quiet, and Bitty swayed his hips in time to the beat and hummed instead of his usual singing. After what felt like only ten minutes to Bitty but was really nearly an hour, Jack padded into the kitchen, rumpled from sleep and absolutely beautiful. Bitty turned the water off, leaving the blueberries he’d just been washing to sit in the sink, and took a moment to stare at his husband. His _husband_! Even now, two years later, it was hard to believe they were married. Maybe that was because they still hadn’t had their ‘big ceremony’ and, at this point, they probably never would. That was just fine to Bitty. It didn’t matter how he and Jack got married, it mattered that they were. It was their love and no one else’s. 

“Good morning, handsome,” he purred, making his way over to Jack so he could wrap his arms around Jack’s middle. Jack looked down at Bitty, a lazy smiled finding its way onto his face, “Morning, Bits. Baking already?” 

“Mhm,” he pressed a kiss to Jack’s chest, just over his heart, before pulling away. 

Bitty was happy. He was happy most days, and most of the time, everything felt normal. There always seemed to be a ball of warmth that was settled in his chest that heated when Bitty looked or even thought about Jack. He lingered for a moment before going back to his blueberries, “You need to call the shelter later.” 

“I know. Thank you for reminding me though.” Jack was calling to see if the cat they’d be adopting as soon as they got back from their cruise was okay with other cats. Jay had somehow (puppy dog eyes and a pout) convinced Kent to take in a pregnant cat, and when she inevitably had kittens, they’d need a place for them all to go. Jack and Bitty had volunteered, with the exception that their other cat could deal with a kitten. 

XXX

_“Dude, I can’t believe you two are adopting a cat,” Kent shook his head. “How’d that come about?”_

_“We weren’t planning on it-” Bitty countered. The four of them had decided to get coffee at Bitty’s favorite bakery, the weekend after Jay and Kent got engaged. “We’re going to Europe soon, we were just going for fun. To look at dogs.”_

_Kent made a face, “Well, there’s your first problem. Dogs are the fucking worst.”_

_Jay shook his head, “They aren’t! Dogs are loyal, and don’t actively try to scratch you.”_

_“Don’t be mad at Kit because you can’t figure out she doesn't like to be held, macaroni.” Under the table, Jay knocked their feet together gently, and Kent huffed a little before looking away, focusing back on Bitty. “How’d you pick her, then?”_

_The ‘her’ in question was the ugliest cat Bitty and Jack had ever seen. After walking through the dog kennels, they’d decided to check out the cats, just for fun. Bitty had always thought kittens were some of the cutest animals in existence, so the opportunity to see them could not be passed up. They’d walked down the row, fingers laced together between them. A few times they’d stop to coo softly at one of the cats, but it wasn’t until they got to the last cage in the row that they’d found her._

_Goose was her name (it was perfect, really, reminding them of Samwell), and her fur was long and all black. She looked like she could be soft if she weren’t so dirty (this was not the fault of the shelter, Goose just seemed to attract dirt no matter how clean the area she was in was). On top of the perpetual layer of grime, she was missing her left eyes and her front right leg. She also had an underbite, so her bottom teeth stuck out. Bitty stopped fully, fingers gripping Jack’s hand a little tighter, “Jack-”_

_When he opened his mouth, Goose trotted to the front of the cage, cried at them with what could only be described as a ‘smoker’s cough’, and rubbed against the bars of the cage. His heart melted into a puddle._

_“Yeah, bud, I see her- I- we’re leaving- we can’t-”_

_“She’s perfect, Jack. She’s so ugly and I already love her so much. We have to bring her home. Please, please, we need to ask them to hold her until we get home, please, please.” Neither of them had taken their eyes off of the cat in front of them._

_When they eventually pulled their eyes away from her, they went to talk with one of the volunteers, who let Goose out to meet them. Bitty held her close, and she purred and rubbed her face against Bitty’s chin. He’d nearly cried, and Jack recorded the whole thing._

_“We’re going away in a few weeks. We were wondering if you’d hold her for us?” How it was possible for Jack to look the most in love he’d ever been was a mystery. Every day the couple seemed to find new ways to fall in love all over again._

_The woman, Shelby, nodded, “Of course!” Her tone was bright and she was smiling so bright it was nearly blinding. “Goose has been here for four years, a month or two more won’t hurt her.”_

_“Four years?” Bitty’s head snapped towards her, “This poor girl,” he cooed, scratching behind her ears and cooing again. “I love you,” he whispered against her head. “I do, yes, I do.”_

_They hadn't wanted to leave without her, but they also couldn’t bring her home yet. It was awful, but in just one short month they’d get to have Goose all the time, and really, Bitty was convinced that bringing her home would be the best moment of their lives, forget winning the Stanley Cup or getting married. But not really, because those were just as important. It was just- she was so perfect._

_Bitty told Jay the story, Jack showed them her picture. Kent blinked a few times, “Don’t take this the wrong way but-”_

_“She’s hideous. The ugliest cat you’ve ever seen,” Bitty supplied._

_“Hit the nail on the head.”_ _  
__  
__Bitty beamed, then said, a little bit dreamily, “She really is awful, isn’t she? I love her.”_

XXX

“You’re welcome, sweetpea.” Bitty dumped the now washed blueberries into a bowl, his back to Jack. It was weird, sometimes, to think they’d be getting a cat (two? cats?) in only a couple weeks. It seemed… well, it seemed official. Almost more so than getting married had. A cat was a living thing that would need care and attention and love. She was a living thing that was _theirs_ in the same way a baby might be. Fuck. Bitty had been thinking about kids recently. It was something that they’d discussed in passing a few times, but maybe it was time to really _bring it up._

Bitty couldn’t believe his train of thought. Or, really, he couldn't believe that only two years ago things had been so totally different. Marriage had seemed almost unattainable then (until they actually went and got married, one of the best moments of Bitty’s life), let alone talk of kids. All this to say that things weren’t the same as they had been. They probably never would be, but that was okay. Jack and Bitty were stronger because of all that they’d gone through. 

Jack would say, however, that he could do without the nightmares that still plagued him. Bitty wasn’t sure of the extent of them, because he knew that sometimes Jack could wake up and get out of bed without disturbing Bitty, but it was usually a few times a month that Bitty would wake up with Jack and comfort him. They were always similar. A car wreck, someone (oftentimes Bitty) dying, pain and screaming. His therapist (who Jack saw twice every month without fail), had told Jack that it was normal, but that they may never go away. The same went for the anxiety Jack felt whenever he went on a roadie. It was a part of him now, one that didn’t appear to be going away anytime soon. 

They’d learned how to deal with it though; Jack and Bitty had learned how to be whole again together. 

Especially after Tater left. 

Bitty had honestly gotten used to Tater living with him and Jack, and it reminded him of the Haus in a way that warmed him up inside. When Tater moved out right after the one year anniversary of the accident, Bitty nearly had a nervous breakdown. All of Tater’s things were moved back into his home, and it made Bitty realize just how much Tater had become a part of his daily life that there was so much of his _stuff_ in his and Jack’s apartment. It had been nice to have someone to talk to, but now Tater was _gone_ and Bitty was crying on his shoulder in Tater’s living room. Tater had only hugged him tight, letting Bitty get out his emotions. “Is okay, B! Is exciting, no? New life. Can do anything I want!” 

Tater couldn’t quite do _everything_ yet, though. He still needed a cane to walk, and his limp was quite bad. But despite all his hardships, he was doing well for himself. He was writing a book (it was in Russian, and they’d have to get someone to translate it back to English for publishing). He’d even gone on a few dates (though he claimed it was ‘ _only one, B, stop chirping’_ ) with the doctor Bitty has teased him about back when Tater was discharged. Turns out they had run into each other at some random coffee shop and exchanged numbers, then ended up texting a lot and getting to know each other.

But with Tater gone, the house had been so quiet, and Bitty felt empty. Jack was away on roadies again, and it’d been so long since Bitty was actually truly alone with only his thoughts. But he and Jack were texting like they were at Samwell again, which helped keep him busy. Lardo also visited at least once a week, a tradition that had started right after the Cup finals, and was continued even two years later. Bitty later told her time and time again that he never blamed her for not checking in as much in the thick of things, and that it was only a miscommunication, but she still felt the dredges of guilt. She never told _him_ that though, and only insisted that she just felt called to stop by for no apparent reason every single week, for two years. Now it was just for fun, but back then it meant more to him than he thought Lardo knew. It was easy to remember how to be with Jack, and how to love him and be loved in return. It wasn’t so easy to remember how to be himself again, and not just a holding spot. It helped more than he thought it would to actually talk out his emotions with a therapist, and not bottle everything up inside. He had helped Bitty to cope and to learn, and Bitty was convinced that he had come out on the other side a better man than he’d been before. He imagined there was a saying about coal and diamonds. His mama would know, probably.

“Bud?” Jack asked, sneaking up behind his partner and snaking his arms around Bitty’s waist, “You’re thinkin’ awfully hard, eh? May see smoke in a minute.” 

“Oh, ha, I bet you think you’re so funny, don’t you?” Even with the teasing, Bitty pressed back into Jack’s embrace.

“Hm, yeah, a little,” Jack kissed Bitty’s shoulder. “What are you thinking about?” He asked softly, each word spoken with care. It was one of Bitty’s favorite things. Even when they were fighting, Jack always thought his words through, he only ever said what he meant (he was told that that was different on the ice, that it had been different with Parse but that didn’t matter so much anymore). 

“Us,” Bitty answered truthfully, turning in Jack’s arms so they were facing each other. “You. Goose. All of it. I love you so much, sweetpea. I love our life. Sometimes I can’t believe this is real.” 

Jack leaned down, pressing a ghost of a kiss to Bitty’s lips. “Me either,” he admitted. “You’re my husband. You’re successful, almost more so than me now-” 

“That isn’t true-” 

“It is, bud, and you know it; I’m thrilled to be your trophy husband. We’ve come a long way, haven’t we? Since Samwell.” 

Bitty didn’t answer verbally, instead, he just nodded, pressing his head against Jack’s chest, focusing on the rising and falling of it as Jack breathed, the gentle _thump-thump-thump_ of his heart that let Bitty know Jack was alive. Then, a deep rumble started, muffled because Bitty was hearing it through Jack’s sternum. It was a hum. 

Jack was humming ‘Halo’. 

Bitty was going to cry. Jack found Bitty’s right hand with his own and laced their fingers together while his left rested on Bitty’s hip. “What are you doin’, honey?” He asked, looking up at Jack but not pulling away. 

Jack didn't stop humming, he instead started swaying them both back and forth. When it got to the chorus, he whisper-sang to Bitty. Bitty’s eyes really did well with tears. How ridiculous, to be in the middle of their kitchen crying while his husband sang a song to him. But he couldn’t help it. 

All the shit they’d gone through, all the breaking and the healing and the learning how to love again had led them here. In each other's arms in more love than either of them could properly express. It wasn’t perfect, no, their life was far from perfect, but it was _perfect_ . And Bitty couldn’t ask for anything more.   
  


**BRUH THAT’S THE STORY**

**But, if you want, take some ~bonus content~**

**(which is just two really, really short ideas that SmolOctopus and I had)**

It wasn't that they were hiding their marriage, because they weren’t. They just… never… announced it. The secrecy was nice, and since their relationship had been such an ordeal, they wanted to keep just this part of it private to themselves and their family. 

That didn’t stop Jack from wearing his ring around his finger when they were in public, or on a chain when he was at practice or at pressers. They’d managed to keep it to themselves for quite a while before someone finally said something, and at a presser no less. 

“Jack-” the man started, “I can’t be the only one who noticed the ring you’ve been sporting. Can I ask, are you married?” 

“This is meant to be about hockey, eh?” Jack leaned forward a little on the table. His ring was safely tucked into his shirt, away from prying eyes (like this reporter, apparently). 

“That’s not a no?” He continued. “When was the ceremony?” 

“There wasn’t one.” 

“So you’re not married?” 

“Maybe.” Jack leaned back again, glancing over at Marty, who caught his eye and smirked. “ _I’m_ married!” He said loudly, everyone’s attention now focused on him. “ _I’m_ married! You lot never asked about that. I could tell you all about it- best day of my life-” 

Jack settled back into his chair, a smug smile on his face. The reporter looked lost. Good, served him right. 

~~~

Bitty didn’t go skating again until Tater moved out. They had gone to the family skate, but Bitty and Tater had sat off to the side, talking and laughing and teasing those who skated up to talk to them. It was a good enough time, even if Bitty had wished he could get on the ice (he could, but guilt stopped him). So having Kent and Jay suggest an ice skating date was just a little surprising. 

“Don’t y’all… ice skate… professionally?” Bitty raised an eyebrow at them, “Why would you want to go on a date like that?” 

“Because it’s something we all can do,” Kent said matter-of-factly. “And also… we know it’s been a while since you went ice skating and thought that maybe… you’d want to.” This was the first time Bitty had seen Kent hesitant since that first dinner. 

Bitty took a deep breath, “Yeah, that’s- you’re right. Alright. Jack?” 

Jack glanced up, he’d been making his protein shake, only half paying attention to what was being said, “Hm? Yeah, sure, if you guys wanna do it.” 

And so, it was planned. 

They got ready in the locker room, and Kent went to use the bathroom real quick before lacing up. As soon as he was gone, Jay reached into his bag and pulled out some tape, smirking at them, “Don’t tell him.” 

Jack mimed zipping his lips, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Bitty snickered and continued to lace up his skates as Jay hurriedly taped the blade of Kent’s skates. The four made their way out to the rink, Jack and Bitty taking the ice first. Bitty was a little hesitant, in fact, he clung to Jack’s arm. Not because he thought he’d forgotten but because he was nervous. Kent watched him with a little bit of a frown. “You okay, Bitty?” He asked before stepping onto the ice. 

He went to push off, but the tape stopped him and he fell forward. The noise he made was undignified, and could even be classified as a pre-pubescent squeak. There was silence for a moment before the three men who were still on their feet started laughing, no, _cackling,_ like fucking hyenas _._ Kent blinked a few times, shifting until he was sitting up, fond anger behind his eyes. 

“Which one of you _assholes-”_ Kent’s eyes moved wildly around the three of them. Bitty hid his face in Jack’s shoulder, whole body shaking with mirth. 

Jay looked away, skating around Kent, “I have no idea-” 

“Oh, you _fucker_ !” Kent pulled himself up to his feet after taking the tape from his skates, and immediately took after Jay, “You’re going to _pay_.” 

“Gotta catch me first, old man!”

~~

He hated this. He fucking _hated this_. Not knowing. The happiness of the finals lasted all of a week before it gave way to something so much more. It gave way to fear and anxiety. Kent had no fucking clue where he was going to be next season; for the first time in ten years, he was lost. 

At least he had Jay. Jay, who had decided to come back to Providence for the off-season. Jay who lit up like a Christmas tree whenever Kent happened to catch his eye. Jay who Kent fucking _loved_. Motherfucker. He loved Jay so damn much. 

At least he was certain that no matter what happened they’d have each other. 

Despite that, Kent woke up with a pit in his stomach every morning the first three weeks of the offseason. One morning, he wondered idly if that was how Jack felt but Jay snuffled beside him and Kent pushed the thought of his head in favor of curling closer to his partner. 

That was until the phone rang. 

Didn’t they know what time it was? 

Cursing under his breath, Kent rolled over to answer it, but Jay whined, “Ignore it.” His voice was rough with sleep. 

“Can’t, babe.” Kent’s was equally wrecked. He grabbed it from the nightstand, wincing at the bright light. “ _Fuck._ It’s Georgia. Fuck.” He let it ring for a beat longer, giving him a second to steel himself before answering it.

“Good mor-” 

“We got you.” She sounded breathless, “Kent, we fucking _got you._ ”

Since joining the Falcs, one thing was obvious: Georgia cared fiercely and deeply about all of the team members. She’d made Kent feel welcomed, despite his cocky, asshole facade. She’d seen through it. She’d helped him get settled. 

The sun was still just rising, a testament to how truly early it was, “What?” Kent choked out. He thought he knew what it meant, but if he were wrong it’d crush him. He was sitting up now, back pressed against the headboard. Beside him, Jay propped himself up on his elbow, looking worried, an adorable crease between his eyebrows.

“You’re officially a Falconer. Permanently” 

Kent was going to cry. Or sing. Maybe fucking _both._

“Really? That’s- that’s-” Oh shit, he really was crying. Jay’s eyes widened, “Is everything-” 

“It’s good-” He whispered but he didn’t want to say anything more. He and George talked for a moment longer before they hung up. Kent didn’t move for a second, the phone held loosely in his hand and his hand resting in his lap. Jay, bless him, didn’t push. He let Kent sit in silence, letting him process. 

“I got traded.” 

“We knew that was going to happen-” 

“I got traded _here._ ” 

The news sat heavily between them before Jay lept into Kent’s lap, “You’re here! You’re staying here! 

Kent was crying again. He wrapped his arms around Jay, burying his face into his neck as he let out all the anxiety, fear, and anger that had been rolling in his gut for the past few weeks. He was staying. 

XXX

Only a few days after that, Jay got a call as well. They’d suspected he’d be traded too, though they weren’t positive. They stared at his phone, his agent’s number flashing on the screen. 

“I could ignore it.” 

“You can’t.” 

“Fuck you, I can.” 

They were worried. Jay could be going anywhere, and they had no say in it. What if he ended up on the other side of the country or- Kent stopped that train of thought. They’d be fine. 

“I’ll put it on speaker.” Jay finally said before sliding to answer. “Hey, Paul.” He tried to sound casual but he sounded choked off. 

“How do you feel about the Bruins?” Paul said. 

“The Bruins? They’re- wait. Why are you asking?” 

“Because, kid, you’re going to the Bruins. It’s a good deal, and you should be-” 

“Boston!” Kent shouted, unable to stop himself, “You’re going to be in fucking Boston!” 

Jay’s face split into a grin, “Paul! Thanks, man! I gotta go!” He hung up and as soon as the call was ended, Kent had thrown himself into Jay’s arms, legs going around Jay’s waist to keep from falling. Jay’s arms went under his thighs. 

“You’ll be forty minutes away! That’s so close, babe!” He was laughing head tilted back, “I love you. I love you so much!” Oh no. Fuck. He hadn’t meant to say that yet. They’d only been dating a few weeks and- oh. There were lips on his, kissing him desperately until they were both breathless. 

“I love you too,” Jay whispered against his lips once they’d pulled apart. Kent melted a little, pressing their foreheads together. He couldn’t believe that he thought he’d had it good in Vegas. What he’d had there wasn’t a life. It was… it was _motions_ ; one after another until he got so used to it he thought it was what he really wanted. Standing in the kitchen, wrapped up in Jay’s arms, the love of his fucking life, he finally felt like his life was starting. 

~~

Jack was _married_. 

They still had to tell the team, well, not the whole team. They were telling the old team and a few others that Jack and Bitty trusted. Their marriage was for no one but themselves and they wanted to keep it that way. 

During the off-season, Bitty and Jack planned a barbeque (Jack liked to grill, sue him) to make their announcement. Eventually, their parents would make them have a party in celebration, but this wasn’t that. They’d rather not make it all about themselves. 

XXX

Things were winding down. Marty and his wife were getting ready to leave, so it was the perfect time to come clean. Kent was there (though, he already knew they were married, turns out he could be very observant when Jack wore his ring on his finger and didn’t bother to hide it), as was Jay, Tater (obviously, he hardly ever left the apartment) and all the Falconers that were able to attend. Bitty, from where he was sitting on Jack’s lap, cleared his throat and spoke up, “Y’all! Jack and I just wanna say that we got married-” 

“We know!” Snowy grinned, “You’re doing a shit job of hiding it, Jack’s wearing a ring!” 

“Mhm. Well. Did you know Dustin Snow, that we got married before the finals?” 

That got their attention. Jack looked around the room, almost on edge. It all looked like everyone was holding their breaths before they said anything else. Maybe they were processing? It was Snowy that ended up breaking the tension, by yelling, “You motherfuckers! Before the fucking cup?!” 

The room broke out in shouts. Jack heard someone yell, “Why the fuck didn’t you say anything?!” 

Someone else said, “You’re going to have to marry Eric every year now!” 

Gabby gasped, looking desperately up at Marty and said, “We didn’t get them anything! They need gifts!” 

Of course, there were a few congratulations, but those were quieter, lost to the din and chaos. It was exactly what Jack was expecting by telling everyone this way, Bitty too. He watched his friends, no, his _family_ as they threw their hands wildly and yelled over each other, and he thought to himself that there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

**Fin**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MOTHERFUCKERS. Wow. I'm crying while I'm writing this, leave me alone. I'm going to start with this: MY FUCKING BETA READER. SmolOctopus. This story, when I finished writing it months ago, was 43k words and 97 pages. Now it's nearly 60k and 128 pages and it's literally all because of her. I have half a mind to put her down as the coauthor on this one. She's read this entire fic, front to back and it's taken months. I literally could not have asked for a better beta reader than her. For real, if y'all are going to thank anyone, it's her. 
> 
> Okay, another thing. THANK YOU. Holy FUCK. For those of you who have been reading this from the beginning, I am so grateful for all your comments. And I'm sure the boys are glad you were routing for them this whole time as well. You are just- you are all so amazing and incredible. I can't thank you enough. 
> 
> With that said: Disaster Draft is finally, finally done. I started writing it on July 16th, and it ws supposed to be a one-shot, can you believe that? It was meant to be 5k words but this story needed to be told. The concept of the disaster draft in the NHL was so fascinating to me, and it deserved to explored with my boys. While hurting them. BUT they did get a happy ending so it's fine! It's good. 
> 
> Thank you again, thank you so, so, much. I can't believe this is finally the end. I'll catch y'all on the flipside :)

**Author's Note:**

> Tagging this was difficult for me, I think I covered things pretty well, but if you think there's anything I should add please let me know! I hope you enjoyed it! If you did please leave a kudos and a comment, they fuel me :) 
> 
> Updates will be weekly!!


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